


When You Were Young

by plumgal1899



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 72,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumgal1899/pseuds/plumgal1899
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern Day A/U. Katniss Everdeen is a typical 18 year old girl: she works hard at school, she looks out for her family, and she dreams of a better life outside of her small town of Meadowglen. What will happen when one electric moment forces her to realize that she can no longer ignore the magnetic connection that exists between her and smart, charming, irresistible Peeta Mellak?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Night

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! I would love to hear what you think. You can check me out on tumblr (plumgal1899) where I post drabble outtakes from this story and the occasional crappy Everlark drawing ;) I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!!!

“Oh, turn this up!” I say, already reaching to slap Gale’s hand away from the radio controls and going for the volume dial. Laughing, Gale lifts both his hands as though in surrender before placing them back on the steering wheel. He knows better than to switch off The Killers if I’m riding with him.

“ _He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus, but he talks like a gentleman, like you imagined when you were young!”_ I belt out over the, now significantly louder, stereo.

“Dammit, Katniss, if Ol’ Cray pulls me over for another noise violation you’re paying for it this time!” Gale is shouting to be heard over my caterwauling.

I ignore him and continue singing. The radio in Gale’s beat up pick-up isn’t even capable of especially loud volume, but Cray’s just an old asshole who will look for any reason to harass Seam kids like us. He’s your typical small town cop, who never did shit with his life and realizes that his best days are gone and are never coming back. Therefore, he takes any chance to direct his bitterness at those of us young enough to still have options and opportunities. Particularly those of us who grew up in the rural area a few miles outside of Meadowglen’s small downtown, known as the Seam. In Cray’s philosophy, if you are poor you must have gotten that way because you were lazy and immoral. Thus, he looks at everybody from the Seam with suspicion since we are definitely Meadowglen’s poorest citizens. Kind of ironic since he is by far the laziest and most immoral person in town. More than a few pretty Seam girls have been brought up on some bullshit charges, just to have them mysteriously dropped after spending a few hours alone in ‘private interrogation’ with Cray.

But I’m not too worried about Ol’ Cray right now. Tonight is one of those rare nights that seems to have a magical quality. Like there is just something in the air that lets you know that something really memorable and wonderful is going to happen. Maybe it is that I worked on my scholarship applications earlier today, so the whole world feels like an open door; maybe it is that my best friend, Gale, has a rare Friday night off from his demanding job in the mines, so we’re able to actually hang out like we used to before life placed too many demands on his time; or maybe it’s just that it is the perfect fall night, with just enough of a cool breeze to be comfortable and a sky so clear it seems like you can see every single star. Whatever it is, tonight I feel young and hopeful and _alive._

Gale laughs at me as I scream the final lines of the song looking directly at him and gesturing wildly with my hands. “I don’t know the last time I saw you in such a good mood, Catnip. What’s going on? You get laid and not tell me about it?”

“ _As if_ I’d tell you even if I did,” I scoff. Leave it to Gale to find some opportunity to tease me about my sex life, or, more appropriately, my lack of sex life. He frequently brings it up jokingly, but I suspect that it is his way of keeping tabs because he really does want to know. I know that he would remedy the situation if given half the chance- he’s actually suggested exactly that a few times when he’s had too much to drink. I always try to brush it off as a joke. I mean, he’s really good looking and we get along great, but I just don’t see him that way, and I know that sleeping with him would change our relationship forever. And he certainly isn’t sitting around pining for me. Although I’ll never take him up on that particular offer, plenty of other girls have. _Plenty of other girls…_

“Where are you driving? I thought this party was with your work buddies?” We are supposed to be on our way to a party but I realize we are heading toward downtown, where I know none of Gale’s work friends live.

“Yeah, it is… we umm… just have to make a quick pit stop,” he says, clearly hedging.

“Where?” I ask suspiciously.

He doesn’t answer me and just keeps driving. “What the hell, Gale? Where are you taking me?”

My question is answered as he puts on his left blinker to turn onto a road that only leads to one place. The high school… where the varsity football game is in full swing. “No way! I do not want to go to the damn _football game!_ Turn around!”

“Come on, Catnip, just for a minute. I just want to check on something,” he says, attempting to make puppy dog eyes at me.

“No, Gale. You know I hate this shit. I spend five days a week with these people. And none of the decent ones ever show up at the football games. Please don’t make me do this,” I plead.

“Honestly, it’ll only be for a few minutes. Just long enough for me see her jump around in that tiny skirt of hers for a few minutes. You know I hardly ever get Fridays off. This may be my last chance and I just can’t miss this opportunity to replenish my spank bank,” he says, waggling his eyebrows at me.

“You’re disgusting,” I groan, suppressing a laugh. I know, of course, who he is here to see. Madge Undersee: head cheerleader, mayor’s daughter, and the one girl (besides me) who refuses to give Gale the time of day.

“Kaaatniiiiss, pleeaasse just come with me.” Now he’s just full blown whining as pulls the truck onto a patch of grass, making his own parking spot since the entire lot is full. Our town takes their high school football very seriously.

“You know, nobody likes a whiner. I’ll just wait here, thanks,” I say crossly.

“You have to come with me. Since you are determined to repeatedly turn me down the least you can do is be my wingman… er, wingwoman. If I go in there by myself it’ll just seem creepy.”

“I’ve got news for you, Hawthorne. There’s nothing either of us can do to make you not seem creepy,” I deadpan. “You graduated last year- you should be over this shit. If you go in there now you will just be that weird dude that continues to impose himself on the high school kids so he can pretend he’s not getting older. You’re approaching ‘McConaughey Status’ here.”

“Damn, that’s low. I was still in high school like, four months ago. I am not _that guy_.”

“ _Yet,_ ” I say.

“Yet,” he affirms, and winks at me before he climbs out of the truck.

I watch him walk towards the ticket line for about ten seconds before I heave a sigh and begin climbing out of the truck myself. “You owe me, Hawthorne!”

“I’ll be more than happy to make it up to you, Everdeen!” He calls back, gesturing suggestively.

“Pig,” I mutter as I jog to catch up with him.

When I get to his side he wraps his arm around my shoulders and shouts into the night, “ _That’s what I love about these high school girls, man! I get older- they stay the same age!”_

* * *

Fifteen minutes later I am leaning against the front of the bleachers of my school’s football stadium, home of the Meadowglen Coal Miners. Not very creative, since coal is the bread and butter of Meadowglen, but it does provide endless opportunities to form puns about how Meadowgleners ‘will blow-up the competition’ or our ‘explosive’ athletic prowess.

One of the many reasons I don’t really fit in at this school is because I just don’t buy into all this. I’ve always been a bit of a loner, even more so now that my one and only good friend has graduated. As I observe my surroundings I am assailed by a multitude of social activities in which I have always been too shy and reticent to participate in. The marching band is in the stands playing a dumbed-down version of _Seven Nation Army_ , to which the dance team is bent over shaking their scantily clad asses at the crowd. The cheerleaders, who are currently being ogled by Gale, are calling out a cheer that consists of shouting ‘boom there goes the dynamite’ as they launch a few of the girls in the air. Representatives from pretty much every club the school offers are here trying to fund raise and recruit new members. Athletes from sports teams other than football are here in ‘Meadowglen Athletics’ T-shirts to both advertise their own sport and to support the football team. Everywhere people are laughing, flirting, cheering and just generally having a great time.

It’s hard to not feel like there must be something wrong with me. It seems like everybody here is passionate about something except for me. Well, that’s not true. I am passionate about something, but it’s not exactly the kind of thing there is a school club for. What am I going to do, start a hunting club? I somehow think that wouldn’t exactly catch on very well, especially since people already think I’m kind of a weirdo. Even though Meadowglen is rural, hunting isn’t really a big thing around here. In fact, the majority the forest surrounding Meadowglen is part of a wildlife preserve owned by Appalachian State University so, for the most part, hunting isn’t even legal here.

Most everybody in the Seam knows that Gale and I hunt and they couldn’t care less, but we would be in big trouble if we ever got caught at it. That’s the thing that is nice about the Seam though, we all support each other. Our neighbors know how hard it has been for our families ever since both of our fathers were killed in a mining accident seven years ago. They see no harm in Gale and I using what nature has to offer if it helps keep food in our bellies. It is especially hard for Gale’s family, since there are four kids to feed as opposed to only two in mine.

College was never an option for Gale even if his grades had been good enough to get a scholarship (which they weren’t). I’m a little more fortunate. Since my mother makes enough at her nursing job that she will be able to support her and my little sister Primrose, I’ll be able to afford a state university as long as I get a decent amount in scholarships. In some ways, my shy nature has been a blessing, as my lack of social life has left me with plenty of time to maintain a 4.5 GPA. My mom definitely wants for me to have a better life than what she had, but my biggest motivation is Prim. It means so much to her to see me succeed and I’ll do everything I can not to let her down.

As I watch Gale chatting up the cheerleaders I find myself actually a little annoyed with Madge. She has always been nice to me, but she looks at Gale with thinly veiled contempt. I may not want to date him, but at least I have bothered to get to know him. I understand that he is a bit of a player, but underneath that he is a really good guy. He has sacrificed so much for his family. That is just the kind of guy he is- he would do anything for the people he loves. She could do a lot worse.

Madge basically shot him down the second he sauntered up to the fence around the track that separates the cheerleaders from the spectators, so now he is chatting up a pretty brunette cheerleader who is giggling and flushed. I can tell he’s laying it on thick as he leans on the fence with studied nonchalance. Poor girl didn’t stand a chance. He hands the brunette his phone and she types something into it before she hands it back. I notice that Madge has watched the entire exchange and continues to stare at Gale as he pushes off the fence and struts away. Hmm, maybe she’s not as indifferent as she seems?

Madge catches my eye just as Gale approaches me and realizes I saw her watching him. She quickly turns away and begins barking orders at the other girls on the squad.

“Enough eye candy to fuel your pervy fantasies? Can we get out of here, now?” I ask him as leans next to me.

“Oh yeah. The dance team is definitely helping in that department, too. Damn.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Yeah, so you said. But I did get that brunette’s number and she told me about a party after the game. I wonder if Madge will be there?” he says, peeling his gaze off the dance teams’ asses and back to Madge’s as she bends to arrange her pom-poms.

“I thought we were going to a party with people from your work. Or was that just a ruse to get me out of the house?”

“No, there is a party, and we are going right now. But _later_ we’ll go to this party,” he says indicating his phone where the brunette entered her phone number.

“Whatever, as long as it means we can get out of here,” I say as I push off the wall.

“Wait! Just a few more minutes! It’s halftime, the dance team will be right here in front of us during halftime.”

“Ech, don’t expect me to stand here with you. I’m going to go talk to Delly,” I say as I begin walking away from him. I head over toward the west end of the field near the concession stands where tables are set up to promote various clubs. I walk to one decorated with a handmade poster board sign that says ‘Like to Argue? Join the Debate Team!’ where Delly Cartwright, one of the few people in school that I actually talk to, stands attempting to attract the attention of people passing by.

“Katniss! How are you? I’m surprised to see you here!” Delly calls with a bright smile as I approach.

“Hey, Delly. Yeah, Gale kinda dragged me here. How are you?”

“I’m great! I actually got someone to sign up for debate, so I’m _really_ great!”

“That is _great. Really great…”_ I say awkwardly. It has always struck me as particularly funny that Delly is the captain of the debate team, since she is pretty much the most agreeable person I have ever known. It’s really hard to imagine her ever debating with anybody over anything. I could probably tell her that ‘Delly’ is not actually her name, and she would try to find some way to agree with me just to be nice.

As she begins to respond to me her voice is drowned out as the entire crowd, both in the bleachers and standing around us at the concessions, erupts into a deafening roar. The game announcer is screaming over the sound system “TOUCHDOWN, MEADOWGLEN!!!! NUMBER 74, PEETA MELLARK, GAINED 46 YARDS ON THAT PLAY FOR A COAL MINERS TOUCHDOWN!!!”

Delly is jumping up and down and clapping as she screams, “Go Peeta!!” Several people have bombarded the table where we are standing in an attempt to get to the fence, beyond which the only thing separating Delly’s table from the end zone is the track. The band has struck up the school’s fight song and the entire crowd around is singing along, screaming the words in my ear. I’m forced to turn towards the field as I am jostled by the raucous crowd.

I don’t know _how_ I know it, but I am certain that as soon as I glance toward the field I will see his blue eyes on me. Somehow I can just feel that Peeta Mellark, the darling of Meadowglen High School- star running back, senior class president, state championship wrestler- will have his clear blue eyes resting squarely on me. As I look toward him I see that the entire team has now gathered, slapping Peeta’s pads and jumping on his back. Despite this- and despite my being swallowed up in the middle of a disorderly mob- I’m not wrong. He has pulled his helmet off and is looking directly at me. As I meet his clear blue gaze, my stomach drops to my feet. I don’t understand how he does this. Why do I always find him staring at me, and why does it always make me feel so… so… anxious?

His messy blond curls are soaked with sweat, sticking up every which way and plastered to his forehead. He’s wearing a lopsided grin that reveals his even white teeth as he distractedly accepts the congratulations from his teammates. It’s clear that he really isn’t paying any attention to them however, because his attention is focused right on me. I want to look away, normally when I catch him staring at me I _am_ the first to look away, but tonight I can’t seem to. He just looks delicious and I just feel- I don’t know- scared and excited and annoyed and giddy and _tingly all over._ Finally, after what feels like forever, Peeta breaks the trance I’m under when his teammates begin pushing him back towards the sideline.

I am left totally bewildered as the crowd around me begins to dissipate and head back toward the concession stands as halftime begins. What the hell just happened? I can’t explain my reaction. It’s not the first time I have caught Peeta Mellark staring at me, and every time leaves me feeling… funny… but I have never felt quite this shaken before. I usually just assume that I imagined it- that he was looking at someone standing behind me- but somehow I know deep down that that is not the case.

I have felt all night like something big was going to happen and now it has. I feel pretty certain that after whatever the hell that was, I’m not going to be able to ignore this weird connection that seems to exist between me and Peeta Mellark. And that scares the shit out of me.

Suddenly I am overwhelmed with the need to get out of here. Now. I pull my phone out and text Gale to tell him that I will meet him at the truck. A distracted wave is the only goodbye Delly gets from me before I am making a beeline toward the exit.


	2. I Pull Up to the Front of Your Driveway

After we leave the game Gale heads back toward the Seam to a party at Gale’s friend Thom’s house. I’ve been to these miners’ parties before and they are usually pretty low key- ten to fifteen people sitting around bitching about work and sharing the latest gossip from around town. I’m alright with that- big crowds aren’t really my thing. And especially after the football game, I’m ready to be around people I can identify with in a place where I feel somewhat comfortable.

Thankfully, Gale is too absorbed with his own shit to notice if I’m acting a bit off. I’m saved from having to talk at all as he drives to Thom’s, because he is going on and on about Madge. He’s seriously acting like a girl, obsessing over every detail of their four second exchange tonight and comparing it to all of their previous conversations. I’m not really listening because my mind keeps wandering back to Peeta Mellark, trying not to think about what he looks like underneath his football gear. _Is his ass really that nice, or was it enhanced by pads? Does he have hair on his chest? What about down his stomach leading to…? Hmm, I wonder if he’ll shower in the locker room after the game._ The thought that I could actually be in a building where Peeta has stood naked and wet makes my stomach clench hard.

“Katniss, hello…” Gale’s words snap be back to reality.

“What?” I ask distractedly.

“I asked you a question. Jesus, what’s your deal? Earlier you were fine and now your acting like an extra on _The Walking Dead.”_

“Sorry, guess I zoned out. What did you ask?”

“I asked if you knew if Madge is seeing anyone,” he says shaking his head in exasperation. “I mean, I just don’t get it. It’s so easy with other girls, but with her it’s like, she just can’t be bothered, you know?”

“Are you seriously going to talk about her all night? You’re such a girl sometimes.” I am truly baffled by how he can be such a manwhore and still wear his heart on his sleeve like this. “Have you ever thought that maybe _all the other girls_ are the reason Madge can’t be bothered? Believe it or not Gale, some girls are actually attracted to guys they think will treat them with respect. Your track record is not doing you any favors in that regard.”

“Well… then she’s a total hypocrite. If she doesn’t want to give me a chance, she shouldn’t expect me to sit around waiting for her. I’m not a monk for Christ sake…” And he’s off again. Sometimes guys can be such idiots, so for the sake of my own sanity, I tune him out again.

I’m relieved to see only five or six cars outside Thom’s as we pull in. “Hey, are you going to stay good to drive tonight?” I ask as we walk toward the house.

“Hadn’t really thought too much about it. Why, you planning on drinking?” He sounds surprised. I’m not much of a drinker.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just in the mood to have a few tonight,” I shrug, trying to act casual.

I can tell he wants to question me, but apparently decides to just let it go. “Yeah, that’s cool. I’ve got work early tomorrow anyway.”

Gale knocks once as we walk through the door. Several people call out to us as we enter the main room of the tiny, run-down house. I’m relieved to see that there are only about a dozen people here, most of whom I know pretty well from hanging out with Gale so much. I head straight to the couch where I see a girl named Leeah who graduated with Gale, but I haven’t talked to for a while.

“Hey, Katniss, long time no see. Want a beer?” She hands me a Miller High Life and I accept it willingly as I sit next to here. Not exactly my cup of tea, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?

“Thanks, how’s it going?”

“Pretty good actually. I just got a job working as a secretary for Mr. Abernathy. The old drunk ran his last secretary off a couple of months ago and I was more than ready to have a nice, cushy office job. You know how he is- couldn’t be bothered to actually look for someone new, so I just went in there last week and told him I was his new assistant!” We’re both laughing at this. Haymitch Abernathy grew up in the Seam and worked in the mines just like most Seam folks. He’s a bit of a legend to the people around here though, because he somehow managed to work his way up to COO of Meadowglen Mining, Co. When the previous owner got in trouble with the IRS for tax evasion, Abernathy bought the company from the government for a pittance. Now he is the wealthiest man in town and lives in the nicest house on the rich side of town. The miners all love him because, having come from the Seam, he looks out for their interests. Other than the money, he has not changed one bit and we love knowing that an old drunk from the Seam is the most powerful man in town.

“That’s awesome! Good for you!” I’ve downed almost my whole beer already, so my response is a little more enthusiastic than it otherwise might have been. Leeah just grins at me and reaching into the cooler under the table hands me another.

“Yeah, now that I’m making a little more I think I’ll be able to move out of my dad’s place. Thom has actually asked me to move in here with him,” she says glancing away and blushing.

“Oh, wow, so you and Thom, huh?”

She smiles shyly and nods her head before saying, “What about you? Seeing anyone special these days?” I don’t miss that she glances toward Gale as she says this, but the mention of someone ‘special’ immediately causes a pair of bright blue eyes to pop into my mind. I just shake my head in answer to her question and down the rest of my second beer.

“Whoa, maybe you better slow down over there, Catnip,” Gale calls from where he is standing with a group of guys in the small kitchen. “We’re going to another party after this and I don’t want to have to strap you on my back to get you there.” Gale knows that between my small stature and infrequent drinking I have a pretty low tolerance. I’m usually more responsible, but if he actually intends to drag me to that other party, there is no way I’m going to endure that sober. If that’s the party the cheerleaders are going to, than the football team will definitely be there, too…

I hold Gale’s gaze directly as I slowly reach into the cooler and grab another beer. He just snorts and shakes his head, returning his attention back to his conversation.

By the time we have been at Thom’s for an hour and a half I am halfway through my fifth beer and laughing hysterically at Youtube videos on Leeah’s phone with a girl I just met tonight, named Kelli. I decide its time to go find a bathroom when a video of a news reporter being chased by a dog during a story almost makes me pee. As I walk through the dining room I realize I’m a lot drunker than I thought. It must show in my walk because I notice a couple of guys in the dining room smirking at me as I walk past them.

“Alright, looks like maybe we should get out of here before this one drinks all of your guys’ beer,” Gale announces, swinging his arm around my neck and rubbing his knuckles on my head as I attempt to pass by him to reach the bathroom.

“Geez, Gale, cut it out,” I murmur temperamentally, ducking under his arm and going into the bathroom.

By the time I get out, Gale is making his rounds with goodbyes and I only have enough time to give a general wave around the room as he leads me toward the door. He opens the passenger side of his truck for me and, after three failed attempts on my part to climb in, places his hand on my ass and pushes so that I fall in face first.

“You’re such an asshole sometimes, Hawthorne,” I mutter as I right myself and he climbs in behind the wheel.

“Hey, the one perk of being DD is getting to mess with your friends while they’re drunk,” he chuckles as he backs out of Thom’s driveway and onto the dirt road. “You sure you’re up for this party? Maybe I should take you home.” And in the long held tradition of dumb drunk kids the world over, somehow an idea that seemed terrible when I was sober now seems brilliant. Suddenly, it seems like missing this party tonight would be an utter tragedy.

“No way! I’m going to this party. I’m gonna go to this party, and I’m gonna tell _him_ to just stop looking at me all the time. I’m gonna be like ‘hey, why you always lookin’ at me’ and then I’m gonna be like ‘well stop it!’”

“What? What are you even-” the rest of his sentence is lost as he is overtaken by laughter. “You’re a mess, Everdeen.”

Whatever, he doesn’t need to understand. It makes perfect sense to me.

* * *

“Green! Green, Gale, it’s green!” I slur as I stare up at the traffic light with my head lolling out the window.

“Settle down. Nobody’s behind us,” he mutters as he scrolls through his text messages from the brunette cheerleader looking for the address. “Alright, it should be right down here,” he says turning left.

I probably look like a dog riding with my head out the window and staring at the big houses as we drive through the residential neighborhood of Meadowglen’s wealthiest citizens. “Here it is,” Gale declares, making his own parking spot on grass for the second time tonight. There are cars parked all over the huge lawn and in the street and drunk kids are wandering around everywhere. The ornate mailbox that I hit with my door as I climb out of the truck has ‘Odair’ scrolled across the side.

“Holy shit, Gale. This is Finnick Odair’s house,” I say with a touch of panic edging my slurred words. After Haymitch Abernathy, the Odairs are the richest family in Meadowglen. Their only son, Finnick, is treated like a god at our school because, on top of being rich, he also happens to be unreasonably good looking and irresistibly charming. I’m pretty sure Finnick could easily talk a nun out of her habit.

“You worry too much, Katniss. It’s a party, just try to let go and have fun for a change.”

“Hey, I have fun,” I mutter defensively as he puts his arm around my shoulders and propels me through the huge double doors that are propped open by two kegs. “Wow, what a welcome!” he declares as he hands me the plastic cup that one of the guys manning the kegs hands him on the way in.

As we make our way through the crowded foyer I am finally able to identify the song thumping through the house as _Get Lucky_ by Daft Punk. “Hey!” Gale shouts pointing in the air to indicate the music, “I think that’s a sign, Catnip! Right?” He grabs my free hand and starts to pull me through the house, which is crammed wall to wall with people.

We plow through a crowd of girls in tiny dresses who are grinding on each other to the beat of the music, a couple of them kissing each other in an attempt to impress the guys watching and egging them on. A few of them actually try to latch on to Gale, but he only laughs and keeps going. I think I must be the only girl here whose body is more than 15% clothed. Damn- when I left the house tonight I actually thought I looked pretty good in my tight jeans and my dad’s old brown leather jacket.

We finally reach a gap in the crowd as we enter what seems to be a large formal living room. Holy shit! There is a girl in the corner who, very unashamedly, has some guy’s hand all the way up her skirt. “Gale!” I pull his arm and point, but he just laughs and puts his hand over my eyes as he continues through the room. I’m suddenly feeling queasy. Coming to this party was a mistake- I am so far out of my element here. _People my age actually do that shit in public!?! What the fuck?_

I stumble into Gale’s back when his progress through the room halts abruptly. I look up at him questioningly and see that he has an intense glare trained on something in the center of the room. Following his gaze I am blindsided by the emotions that rush through me at what I see. Peeta and Madge are there amongst another crowd of dancers, wrapped around each other so tightly you couldn’t fit a sheet paper between them. I’m not sure their rhythmical grinding could even technically qualify as dancing. Madge’s back is to us, but I can see Peeta’s face clearly. Unlike the other dancers, he appears to be laughing- hard- which must register as odd somewhere in the back of my mind. Unfortunately, the only thought in the _front_ of my mind is that now I understand what other girls mean when they say they wanted to scratch some girl’s eyes out. In three seconds flat, every nice thought I have ever had about Madge Undersee has completely fled my mind. Definitely not the finest moment of the night for Gale Hawthorne and Katniss Everdeen.

Gale drops my hand exits the room without looking back. As he shoves through the crowd he catches the attention of the group of dancers. Peeta looks up and, of course, his eyes seem to immediately land on me where I am standing by myself, drunkenly gawping at him and Madge. The smile on his face dies and he begins pushing at Madge’s shoulders, but I don’t stick around to see what he does next. I turn on my heel and head back the way we came, just trying to find the quickest way out of the room.

_What’s wrong with me?_ I have absolutely no claim over this guy, yet I react like some pyscho to seeing him dance with another girl. It must be my drunken state that has caused this volatile reaction, because in reality, I probably haven’t spoken more than 20 words to Peeta Mellark in my whole life. It’s just that, deep down inside, in a place that I rarely ever let myself acknowledge, I know that I have felt some kind of profound connection to Peeta for a long time now. And it all comes down to one random act of kindness on his part, that I’m not even sure he remembers, but that caused an undeniable shift in the circumstances of my own life.

Walking toward the back of the house I find a small staircase that is blissfully deserted. I sit, pulling my knees to my chest and resting my head on them. I try not to think about it, but, as it has so many times in the past, my mind wanders of its own volition to the day that Peeta Mellark changed my life in the simplest, yet most profound, way imaginable.

I even remember the exact date because it was Prim’s eighth birthday. My father had been dead for nearly a year. Having left no life insurance policy, we had been surviving solely off the settlement that Mr. Abernathy issued to the families of victims. It was a fair settlement- that’s what I heard the grown-ups whispering at my father’s wake- but without any additional source of income, bill collectors and basic necessities had depleted that money within ten months of my father’s death. I know this because in the months following my father’s death, I was the one who made sure bills were paid and food was on the table.

I am certain that my mother was deeply in love with my father, just as I know that that love made her the weakest person I have ever known. She relied upon him so much, that when he was taken from us so suddenly, she just disappeared right along with him. For months she didn’t get out of bed unless it was to attend to the most basic bodily functions. Prim spent hours curled up under the blankets with her as my mother wept silently for days and days- but Prim is so much kinder than I am. After a few weeks of that behavior I could barely stand to look at my mother. I tried to get her out of bed when the bill collectors started calling. Eventually I just started signing her name on the checks and sending them out myself. When our groceries ran out, I rode my bike three miles to the grocery store in town to buy things that I knew how to make like boxed macaroni and cheese, peanut butter and jelly, and frozen pizza. For months this is how Prim and I survived. My mother probably would have starved to death if Prim hadn’t spent time each day coaxing her to eat. During those months the only regular interaction that occurred between my mother and I were her pitifully uttered apologies, “I’m sorry, Katniss. I’m so sorry, I just can’t…”

After about ten months I began receiving the overdraft notices from the bank. That’s when I canceled the cable service and let them repossess our car- nobody was using it anyway. The day they disconnected our power I went into my mother’s room and screamed at her to get out of bed until my voice was raw and Prim was huddled in a corner crying with her hands over her ears. When I got home from school the next day the power was back on and our only close neighbor, who everyone just called Miss Sae, was in my mother’s bedroom. I could overhear her trying to convince my mother to go to Mr. Abernathy and explain our circumstances. She was telling her that he was a fair man and would surely help us if she would just ask. I felt so ashamed that Miss Sae had paid our power bill- I know she could barely get by herself.

My mother didn’t get out of bed to go to Mr. Abernathy that day. The next time I screamed myself hoarse was a few weeks later when I realized that the only food we had left in the house was a bag of rice and the condiments in the fridge door. I begged her for hours to go down to the municipal building and sign up for food stamps. If it would have been just me, my pride wouldn’t have allowed it, but I couldn’t bear the thought of Prim going hungry. But my mother didn’t get up that day either. We had always been poor, but up until that point I had never known what it was to be truly hungry.

Miss Sae must have kept quiet about what we were going through. If anybody had known it surely would have been reported to the authorities and Prim and I would have been taken away. For the next few weeks a small bag of groceries would show up on our doorstep on each Sunday afternoon. Not much- just enough to keep us going- but surely more than Miss Sae should have had to spare.

By the time Prim’s birthday had arrived, I had been fretting about it for weeks. It broke my heart to think that the sweetest, most kindhearted girl in the world would not have so much as a taste of cake or the simplest of gifts for her birthday. I told myself that if there was a God, there is no way he would let this little girl’s birthday pass in such a way. I had to tell myself this or else I would be filled with a despair too deep for me to handle.

After school, as I waited in our usual spot, I was coming to terms with having to tell Prim that there wouldn’t be anything for her birthday this year. But as she approached me with her sweet smile beaming up at me full of hope, I just couldn’t do it.

“Guess what Prim,” I said crouching down so we were on the same level. “Today I saw the baker, Mr. Mellark, and he told me that if I brought you buy this afternoon, he would give you the prettiest and most delicious cookie in the whole shop.” I couldn’t believe the ease with which the lie spilled out of my mouth, but the baker was a kind man, and it was likely that he would actually give us a free cookie if we went in there today. As much as I hated the idea of accepting charity offered out of pity, I just had to try for Prim.

She squealed with delight and, grabbing my hand, began to lead the way to the bakery, which was only a couple of blocks from our elementary school. My heart sank into my stomach when we arrived, however, and I saw that Mr. Mellark was not manning the shop today, but his wife, with the help of their youngest son. She was nothing like her husband and treated adults from the Seam with hardly the barest civility. Their children, who never had money to spend in the shop, were treated with absolute contempt. Prim, being totally unaware that all of my hopes had just been dashed, eagerly pranced into the bakery declaring, “Today is my birthday, ma’am! I’m here for my free cookie!”

I still feel the sharp pain in my heart when I remember Prim’s face as Mrs. Mellark laughed spitefully and told her that she didn’t give free charity to _nasty Seam brats,_ and that we had better get out of there before she had to haul us out by our ears. Prim cried silently the whole way home, her little heart completely broken. The despair that I had been fighting for weeks finally swamped me as I was forced to face the fact that I couldn’t take care of us- that a twelve year old could not shoulder the responsibilities of an adult, and we were probably going to be taken from my mother to become wards of the state.

I tried desperately to think of something to say to Prim to explain what had happened, some way to somehow make it better. In the end, I was too much of a coward to admit that I had lied- that I had let her down. When we arrived home she wordlessly crawled into bed with my mother and I just curled up on the couch, staring sightlessly into space, too distraught to even cry.

I must have lain there for hours, because when the urgent knocking on the front door snapped me out of my trance it was fully dark outside. Prim must have still been in with my mother because I didn’t see her as I went to answer the door. When I opened it, there was no one there, but as I stepped out to look around my foot knocked into a large white bag sitting on the floor of the porch. Running out into the yard I spotted someone on a bike pedaling furiously down the road that led back towards town.

Confused, I picked up the bag to bring it inside and was immediately assailed by an assortment of delicious smells. The first, smaller bag I pulled out held three large white buns with a crust of cheese melted on top. My mouth was already watering as I pulled out the second bag, which held three flaky triangle pastries that appeared to be filled with some sort of meat and vegetables. As I pulled the final item out of the bag I knew what it was going to be before I even opened it. My heart stopped as I opened the box and saw the most beautiful little cake inside, decorated with pink primroses and yellow dandelions, with the words ‘Happy Birthday Primrose’ scrolled perfectly across the top. I realized then that person I say pedaling away had been the youngest Mellark son, the one who had been working with his mother that afternoon.

“Prim!” I called excitedly. “Prim, come look!”

Prim’s smile when she saw that cake could’ve outshone the sun. That alone was enough to land me in Peeta Mellark’s debt for life, but that wasn’t even the most amazing part. Prim was so excited about the cake that she insisted on taking it in to show our mother and exclaimed, “Mamma, look what the baker sent me! The prettiest birthday cake in the whole world!”

I think that Prim’s bright smile must have shone a little light back into my mother’s heart, because that night she actually got out of bed voluntarily for the first time in nearly a year, so that she could celebrate Prim’s birthday with us.

It was a few days later, when I was rummaging through my mother’s closet to help her find something to wear to the meeting she had finally scheduled with Mr. Abernathy, that I came across my father’s old bow and leather hunting jacket. As I sat examining the bow, Prim’s cake, which Peeta had decorated with primroses and dandelions, popped into my mind. I realized then that there _was_ a way for me to take care of my family while my mother worked to get back on her feet.


	3. Destiny is Calling Me

_Twice._ Tonight of all nights, Katniss Everdeen has shown up unexpectedly- and totally out of place- _twice._ I hardly ever see her outside of school, and never in social settings, but here she is, her beautiful gray eyes trained on me for the second time in one night.

I don’t even realize what I am doing as I place my hands on Madge’s shoulders and begin to push her away. Madge is my girlfriend, so why do I feel like I just got caught doing something I’m not supposed to just because Katniss happened to see me dancing with her? Maybe it’s because Madge doesn’t really feel like my girlfriend. I know that, technically, we made it official a few weeks ago, but it’s not like that caused a switch to just flip in my brain that turned off ‘friend’ and turned on ‘lover’. Honestly, I’m a little bewildered at how it happened. I mean, I know the events that occurred, but I was- and still am- blindsided the factthat they _did_ occur _._

We were at a bonfire out on the preserve in late August when it happened. Early in the night everything between us had been just like normal- friends discussing college plans and bitching about our parents. Then a few hours later, out of nowhere, Madge crawled into my lap and started kissing me. I was so baffled that I just kind of let it happen. It was so weird too, because between kisses she just kept saying that I was a _nice guy_ and what she needed was a _nice guy_. The whole thing was just bizarre and I wrote it off as her being drunk. Imagine my surprise when she showed up while I was working at the bakery a few days later with a whole speech prepared about how we ‘made sense’ together, and everybody expected it to happen between us, so we might as well give it a try. Nothing really changed between us, except that Madge started referring to us hanging out as ‘dating’ and we usually spent at least 10 minutes of each of those dates making out. Honestly, it felt like something we were both just trying to get through. Madge always initiated it, like she was trying to prove that we were a real couple and not just two friends hanging out.

I never tried to push things further and neither did she, until today when she came up to me before the game and told me that she thought we should move our relationship to the ‘next level.’ I guess I must have agreed, because she seems determined that at some point tonight we are going to find a room somewhere in Finnick’s house to make this happen. She seems determined and I seem indifferent. I never thought determination and indifference would be the characteristic emotions I would relate to my first time.

It all felt so artificial with Madge. Which is probably why, when she grabbed me a few minutes ago and started grinding on me to the beat of the music, I just started laughing. I couldn’t help it. It just struck me how ridiculous this whole thing is- that I have agreed to lose my virginity tonight during a huge party at my best friend’s house, with a girl that I can’t even bring myself to think about sexually. And to top it all off, Katniss Everdeen- the girl I have been in love with since, basically, the first moment I laid eyes on her- has cropped up twice tonight. _That has to be some kind of sign, right?_

I’m not sure exactly what possesses me, but the second I register that Katniss is here I immediately begin disentangling myself from Madge. I am free just in time to see her disappear into the crowd at the other end of the room. I vaguely here Madge calling, “Peeta? Are you okay?” as I walk away, but I don’t turn back or acknowledge that I have heard her.

By the time I reach the foyer she has disappeared again. Her ability to appear and then disappear without a trace is uncanny. I am up on my toes straining to see over the crowd when I hear “Peeeet! Where’s your girl at, man?” Finnick is coming down the stairs towards me and it takes me a second to realize he is talking about Madge. He is bare chested and bare footed and his hair is sticking up all over his head. If I didn’t already known what he had been up to, I would’ve had no doubt after the leggy blonde- fully dressed, but otherwise equally disheveled- whispers in his ear and captures the lobe in a gentle bite as she passes him on the stairs.

He’s still wearing his cocky grin as he comes up and clamps both of his hands on my shoulders and gives me a shake. “So, you and Madge… Tonight, huh?”

“Um, yeah, I guess. Maybe,” I hedge, resuming my search for Katniss.

“What the fuck, Mellark? What do you mean maybe? I swear to god, your dick is going to turn into a vagina if you don’t start using it, man.”

Okay, this is a big part of the reason I have just gone along with the whole ‘Me and Madge’ thing. And it’s not just Finnick, either. My friends, my teammates, my brothers- they all seem to take it as some personal affront that I’m not out every weekend nailing anything that moves. Jesus, even my mom harped on me about not having a girlfriend before Madge and I started dating. Of course, she’s just fucking ecstatic now- in her eyes, I couldn’t possibly do any better than the mayor’s daughter.

Everybody seems to have a vested interest in mine and Madge’s relationship except for me. But what am I supposed to tell Finnick. _No, man, I don’t think I want to do anything with Madge tonight because I am nursing a 13 year crush for a girl I have barely spoken to._ Somehow I don’t think Finnick would exactly understand that reasoning. Hell, I don’t even completely understand it myself.

“I don’t know, Finn. If it’s supposed to happen for Madge and me, it will,” I say evasively, hoping he will drop it.

“‘ _If it’s supposed to?’_ Come on Peet, Madge is hot and she told you she wants it. Why are you being such a pussy about this?”

“She didn’t tell me she ‘wants it’, she told me she thinks we _should_. Like it’s some kind of obligation that we need to get over and done with.”

Finnick just sighs and squeezes my shoulders again, and I know he is going to let this go for now. I know him better than anybody, even his parents. Well, _especially_ his parents. People tend to think of me and him as opposites, and in some ways we are. But what I know that nobody else realizes, is that everything that Finnick shows of himself is a façade. He and I are probably more alike than people realize, but he would never let anybody close enough to see that part of himself. The sad part is that everybody loves the façade so much, nobody ever really bothers to try to see past it.

He is serious when he responds a moment later, showing a rare glimpse of the real Finnick. “Look, do what you want to do, Peet. But you aren’t doing Madge any favors by stringing her along. If you don’t like her, you need to break it off.”

I want tell him about how artificial it is with Madge, about how I think she doesn’t actually have feelings for me, and I can’t figure out what is motivating her to pursue this relationship. But now is not the time to get into that, so my only response is a vague nod.

A moment later, any inclination to discuss my girl problems with Finn vanishes entirely as I see Katniss reappear from the back of the house. She looks a little upset and slightly off kilter. _Is she drunk?_ I don’t actually know her well, but 13 years of observing her from afar has given me an idea of the type of person she is. Everything she does is accomplished with a quiet confidence, always in control and coolly competent. But as I observe her tonight, her gorgeous mercury eyes look glassy and her normally effortless tread seems uncertain.

Despite this, she is still by far the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Her long, dark hair is thick and silky and, I swear, that simple braid she keeps it pulled back in must be a premeditated attempt to drive me crazy. I can’t see it without my mind filling with thoughts of slowly unraveling it and letting the thick, glossy locks slide through my fingers. And her body… _oh my god, her body…_ She is so effortlessly sexy- athletic but still so feminine. The way she struts around in her tights jeans and tank tops- _fuck_ \- sometimes I think she might kill me. I’ve spent way too many hours fantasizing about running my fingers underneath her tank top, feeling her smooth skin catch against the pads of my fingers- or unbuttoning those tight jeans, trailing my lips across every inch of skin revealed as I peel them down her toned legs. My hands practically ache to grab her perfect ass and pull her hips flush against my own.

I watch as she approaches someone on the other side of the crowded foyer and see that Gale Hawthorne is there with his arm around one of the girls on Madge’s cheer team. There has never been any sort of outward indication by either Katniss or Gale that they are more than friends, but I still can’t help the sickening swoop of jealousy in my stomach every time I see them together. Whether or not anything has ever happened between them, I know that he is close to her in a way that I never have been, but have always wanted to be.

Katniss leans up to yell in his ear so that he can hear her over the music coming from the other room. I can’t hear her, but I can tell by watching her mouth and the way she is gesturing that she wants him to take her home. It appears that she notices the drink in his hand at the same time I do. I don’t hear his response to her, but it is clearly not the one she wants because she yells in his ear again, angrily this time, and then turns on her heal and heads toward the front door.

I look back to Gale- _is he going to just let her leave like this?-_ but he has wrapped his arms around the cheerleader with his back facing the door and doesn’t see that Katniss is leaving. _Fuck._ I just can’t let her leave like this, so I don’t even think about what I am doing as I push through the crowd to follow her out the door.

As I step into the darkened yard I see her about fifty yards further down the huge lawn. “Katniss!” I call, jogging towards her before I have the chance to second guess what I’m doing. “Hey, wait up a sec.”

She stops and turns slowly as I draw near, the look on her face speaks of total astonishment. I can easily understand why. For at least the last six years she has noticed _me_ noticing _her_. But in all that time I have never approached her, never initiated an actual conversation with her. I couldn’t even begin to count the number of times that her eyes have turned to me as I watch her from across a room, only to flit away again a moment later. But, as easy as it is for me to talk to everybody else, Katniss Everdeen terrifies me as much as she fascinates me.

“Um, hey,” I say, walking up to her as I lift my hand in an awkward wave. “I’m, uh, Peeta.” _Jesus, why is it so hard to talk to this girl?_

“I know who you are,” she says, taciturn as always, giving nothing away.

“Right, yeah. Okay.” Another awkward pause passes as she waits for me to continue. “You’re not driving home are you?”

Her eyes flash, offended by my assumption. “No, I wouldn’t drive when I’ve been drinking.”

This was not going well. “Right, yeah… yeah, that’s good. Well, um, so where are you going?”

“Home,” she gestures vaguely behind her down the road.

“You’re walking?”

“Um, yeah,” she looks sheepish as she continues, “I rode with my friend. He wasn’t going to drink, but… um, I guess he decided to after all. I just needed to get out of there.”

“Did something happen? Is everything okay?” I say, trying to meet her eye, but she will not look at me.

“No. No,” she declares emphatically, “it’s just not really my thing, you know. Big parties like that… I just, needed to leave.”

“Yeah, I get it. Not really my thing either.”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself just fine,” she blurts out as soon as I finish. The blush that stains her cheeks is so dark that I can see it easily, even in the minimal light cast by the street lights.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m pretty good at pretending, huh?” She finally meets my eyes at this and neither of us looks away, the silence stretching between us. An intensity that I could have never predicted simmers between us, and I finally have to break the tension. “I can take you home… I haven’t had anything to drink.”

She scrunches her nose up skeptically- which looks adorable, by the way- and I can’t help but chuckle. “I swear, I haven’t! You’ve seen my mom. Trust me, my life won’t be worth living if I come home drunk.” I intended that comment to be lighthearted, but she just nods solemnly, like she can see past it and understands that a wealth of unspoken implications exist in that statement.

“Look, it’s really okay, Peeta. I’m tougher than I look. I’ll make it home okay.”

“I know you are,” her eyes snap back to mine again, but I continue before the tension can build again, “but it will make me feel better to know that you’re home safe. Besides, you don’t want to run into Officer Cray, right?”

She doesn’t quite succeed in repressing the visible shudder that moves through her at my last question. I feel ridiculously proud of myself as she gives me a nearly imperceptible nod and indicates that I should lead the way.

When we reach my Jeep Cherokee, I open the door and grab her hand to help her inside since she still seems a little unsteady on her feet. I am surprised by how good her small, cool hand feels in mine. I am reluctant to let it go, but I eventually have to when she looks up at me wonderingly.

As I pull onto the road, I hear my text tone go off in my pocket. I know it’s going to be Madge so I just ignore it and keep driving. I know I need to let her know where I am, but I can’t tell her I left to take another girl home, and I don’t want to lie to her. I decide I’ll text her after I drop Katniss off, and just tell her that I had to take someone home who had had too much to drink. _It’s technically not a lie, right?_

“Um, I live over on Pinewood Drive,” Katniss tells me as we head south of downtown.

“Yeah, I know,” I say immediately. Now it’s my turn to blush as I realize that there is a giant elephant in the room. Of course, I know where she lives, we both know that. The day that I brought her sister a birthday cake, I rode my bike all the way to her house, knocked on her front door. Even though she has never said anything to me about it, I know that something changed between us that day. It was after I brought that cake, that Katniss started noticing me back. It was after I brought the cake that I began to feel her silver eyes on me in return.

I swear I can hear my heart beating in my chest as the silence continues. I am astonished when Katniss is the one to break it this time. “Why do you always look at me, Peeta?” Her whispered words are almost inaudible.

 _Because you are the most fascinating person I have ever known. Because you are beautiful.  Because you are fierce, and brave, and loving._ I could have said any one of the thousands of reasons that I am drawn to her. But I don’t say anything. I don’t meet her eye, but I can see in my peripheral vision that she is staring at me imploringly. And I don’t say anything…

The moment is broken when my phone rings loudly. It is Madge, and I feel like I have been left off the hook of responding to Katniss as I answer my phone.

“Hey,” I say as I put the phone to my ear with my right hand, keeping my left on the steering wheel.

“ _Where are you?_ ” Madge says quietly, and I can tell that she is really upset.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. God, I feel like total shit right now. “I had to take someone home. I’ll be back in ten minutes. Is everything okay?”

“ _Just please come back soon… Please.”_ I know something must have happened to upset her- I can hear it in her voice- but I’m not going to push it right now. There is no way she is this upset just because I left for a few minutes. Madge is actually a really good person and she wouldn’t get mad over something like that.

“I will, I promise,” I tell her right before she clicks off on her end.

When I look over at Katniss she is staring determinedly out the window. “Sorry,” I say quietly, but she just nods and keeps her face averted away from me. Neither of us speaks for the remainder of the short ride to her house.

As I pull into her driveway, Katniss opens the door and quickly hops out before I even have a chance to get my seatbelt off. Before she closes the door, she turns back and meets my eyes with her fierce gray gaze and says, “Thank you, Peeta.”

The intensity with which she says it tells me that she’s not just talking about the ride home. I want her to know that she doesn’t have to thank me for anything, so I try to brush off her apology. “Hey, it’s no problem. It was a short drive.” My face feels like it’s going to crack beneath my attempt to smile. There is so much that I could have said and I wasted my chance.

“No, I mean, _thank you…_ For everything.” She has a way of imbuing those few words with so much meaning. “I should have said that a long time ago. Thank you.” And before I can form a response the car door closes and she has fled to her porch.

I put the car in gear and wait in the driveway to make sure she gets into her house okay. As I head back towards town and I can’t help but feel utterly disappointed. I know I am driving toward the wrong girl. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think. Come say hi on tumblur (plumgal1899) where I post drabble outtakes from this story and Everlark artwork. :)


	4. Don't You Wanna Come With Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I would love to hear from you :) I'm at plumgal1899 on tumblr.

As I pull my battered old Ford Escort into the school parking lot on Monday morning I am struck, for what seems like the thousandth time in the last few days, by just how normal everything seems. The past two days have passed much the same as any other weekend- homework, scholarship applications, a movie with Prim, a little hunting... But the last three nights…  Those have been spent tossing and turning, in and out of a restless sleep, obsessing over every detail of my brief interaction with Peeta.

 It’s like, that beautiful cake he made for Prim opened a piece of my heart and let him flow inside, where he has been silently shifting and changing everything within, like an underground current changes the land that it courses beneath. On the surface, everything looks perfectly normal, but one step could cause the whole thing to crumble, changing the land forever.  One act of pure kindness and six subsequent years of aching awareness have changed the surface of my heart without me knowing. Friday night was like the first tentative steps onto that fragile land, and I can feel everything beginning to crumble. As terrifying as that is, I can’t help but want to break through the surface and jump, feet first, into the place where Peeta’s presence has changed everything.

When I turn off the car, I use the few moments it takes for the worn engine to shutter to a stop to try and shake these thoughts from my mind. I need my head clear for the meeting that has brought me to school an hour early this morning. Ms. Trinket, the school’s guidance counselor, can be a bit much to take, and I’ll definitely need to be firing on all cylinders to get through this.

Standing outside Ms. Trinket’s office, I lift the flap on my messenger bag to double check that the folder that I placed my stack of scholarship applications in is still there. It is, of course, each application neatly tucked into a stamped and addressed manila envelope, awaiting various letters of recommendation before they will be sealed and mailed off. I emailed copies of each application to Ms. Trinket on Saturday evening just to make sure everything looked okay, and she responded yesterday to ask me to come in and speak with her. I’m not sure what we could possibly need to go over- my recommendations are already lined up and on their way, I have proofread each app. several times so I know there are no errors, and I followed the completion instructions of each like I was dismantling a bomb. I got this.

As I knock quietly a high-pitched trill calls out for me to enter. Upon opening the door I am immediately assaulted by the heavily perfumed air and riot of color that seems to follow Ms. Trinket everywhere. “Ms. Everdeen!” she exclaims as I walk in and sit at one of the two brightly upholstered chairs opposite her desk. She has a strange way of talking, as though everything she says is in response to some sort of pleasant surprise. It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes at her and make a smart-ass comment about whether or not she was expecting me.

“Hey, Ms. Trinket,” I mumble, “thanks for taking the time to look over my applications.”

“No thanks are necessary! This is what I’m here for! Nothing gives me as much pleasure as sending _bright_ youngsters off on the path to _bright_ futures.” _Oh Jesus, this is going to be painful._ “Now, let me see if I can pull up your file,” she trills as she begins clacking her bright orange fingernails on the keyboard in front of her.

“Um, is everything okay with my applications, because-” I don’t even get to finish before she is off again.

“Okay! Here we are. Yes, yes, yes. Lovely, lovely, lovely. Ms. Everdeen, your academic record is simply magnificent- positively beyond reproach. In addition to your excellent GPA and solid test scores, the quantity of AP courses and dual enrollment at the community college this year would make you an excellent candidate for _any_ academic scholarship!”

Damn right, I’m an excellent candidate. I have busted my ass for the past four years for just that reason. I am absolutely determined to go to a good school and I _need_ these scholarships to make that happen. For me, college isn’t just the next step in the natural progression of life, like it is for most kids my age. It is my ticket out of the Seam, my opportunity to break the cycle of poverty that so many, like Gale, find themselves trapped in. And I refuse to put any financial burden on my mother. There is no way she could afford to pay for both Prim and I to go to school, and I won’t take a dime from my mother that could potentially go towards Prim’s education.

Ms. Trinket’s bright smile slips slightly as she continues. “Now, you have informed me that you would like to go to UNC-Chapel Hill, is that correct?”

“Yes.” Most of the scholarships I am applying for can only be used toward tuition at an in-state, public university, and UNC-Chapel Hill has the best Conservation Biology program in the state. As far as I’m concerned, this is the _only_ school for me, and I have already received my unconditional acceptance to their BS honors program.

“Well, that is a wonderful school and they will be lucky to have you!” The smile stretching across her bright orange lips has taken on a brittle quality that has me bracing for the bad news that I am sure she is about to drop on me. “I do have one teensy tiny concern with that, however.”

I sit up a little straighter as I wait for her to continue. “You see, Katniss, in terms of public universities, Chapel Hill is rather, well, expensive, dear.” She coughs to clear her throat, clearly uncomfortable. “While I am confident that you will receive nearly all of the scholarships you have applied for, I feel certain that it will not be enough if you do not receive the biggest one. I am referring, of course, to the ‘Leaders of Tomorrow’ award.”

“Oh… You don’t think I’ll get that one, too?” I don’t think much of myself in most regards, but when it comes to my academic ability, I know my worth. I decided to apply for the ‘Leaders of Tomorrow’ award, which holds the prerequisite that candidates must be appointed valedictorian of their graduating class, because I know that nobody else in my grade can surpass me academically. I just assumed that I would be appointed valedictorian and, therefore, qualify for the award.

“Well, as you know, you must be named valedictorian for that award.”

“Yes.”

She clears her throat uncomfortably again. “If it were a matter of grades alone, you would be a shoe-in. But I have sat on the committee that makes that decision for several years and, I can tell you, academics are not the only factor we take into consideration.”

I just raise my eyebrows at her, not trusting myself to speak. I have a notoriously short temper, and nothing sets it off as much as fear or stress. And right now I am terrified.

“You see, my dear, the student who will be appointed valedictorian is the student who myself, Principal Coin, and the other faculty and staff committee members feel best represents our school as a whole. While academics are important, your experience here at Meadowglen High should be about _preparing_ _you for your future_ and there is so much more that goes into that than making good grades. For that reason, we choose a student who excels academically _and_ socially. Someone who has really strived to get the utmost out of the _total_ educational experience we offer.”

“Are you telling me that my future is about to be flushed down the toilet because I’m, like, not a cheerleader or something?” My tone is barely civil at this point.

“I’m not saying that at all. I am just making you aware that you shouldn’t _necessarily_ bank on the ‘Leaders of Tomorrow’ award as circumstances currently stand.”

“It sounds to me like you’ve already decided who is going to be valedictorian, then,” I say, starting to rise from my chair. Prim tells me I have a bad habit of running from highly emotional situations. I have to concede that she is probably right.

“Ms. Everdeen, please sit!” Ms. Trinket says sharply. I immediately drop back into the chair. She’s kind of scary when she’s peeved. “I asked you here today because I want to help you, but I need you to _help me, help you._ Now, while you are not the front runner right now, the decision is far from final. I think I may have a solution for you, because I absolutely want to see you succeed.”

Okay, I’m starting to calm down at this point- my fingers even begin to unclench from their white knuckle grip on the strap of my bag. “I’m listening…” I say cautiously.

“You need to make a concerted effort to become more involved in the aspects of your education that lie outside of academics, and you need to do so immediately. We name the valedictorian early in January, which only gives you about three and a half months to make an impression on the committee.” She pulls a glossy pamphlet out of the plastic stand on the front of her desk and lays it in front of me. “I would like to invite you to become a Meadowglen Mentor, Katniss. This is a program that I run personally, and if you put in a strong enough effort, I would be happy to recommend you as valedictorian to the committee.”

“So this is just like, after school tutoring for the elementary kids, right?” That seems easy enough.

“That is part of it, but it is a little more involved than that. The children that we mentor have parents who are often burdened by the support of their family-” Seam kids, “-and must work long hours to provide. The mentor program invites these children to participate in enriching programs here at the high school from 3 to 5pm. This allows them to seek help with homework, receive guidance on personal matters, and just generally make friends and have fun! I would like you to volunteer on Wednesday and Friday afternoons, when we focus on outdoor activities to promote physical health and playfulness. I happen to know you have _particular_ skill in archery. Wouldn’t that be a fun skill to cultivate in the youngsters?”

“Why? They can’t utilize it around here,” I say with more than a bit of snark. Ms. Trinket’s only response is the lift of one perfectly plucked brow, which tells me she’s on to my little secret. I should have known- if something happens in this town, Effie Trinket knows about it.

“Well, what say you, Ms. Everdeen?”

 _Fuck._ I really don’t have a choice and she knows it.

* * *

 

By the time Wednesday rolls around Indian summer is in full swing and it is  _hot._ I am only halfway out to Field Two, where Ms. Trinket has informed me the mentor program’s outdoor activities take place, when I abandon the sweater I put on this morning, pulling it over my head to reveal the plain black tank top underneath.  A local farmer has donated some hay bales to the program, so that I can set up targets for archery lessons, and I will have to drag them from a nearby shed and set them up myself.

Thirty minutes later, I am already dripping in sweat as I finish dragging the last hay bale in place and tacking a paper bullseye to the front, when the first kids start to trickle onto the field. I am beginning to panic at being left alone with an ever increasing crowd of kids when I finally see Ms. Trinket exit the school with a pretty brown haired girl I don’t recognize. The girl is struggling under the weight of two large bags thrown over her shoulder, that look to be filled with various sports equipment, and Ms. Trinket is attempting to push a cart loaded down with activities over the rough grass terrain- a task that is certainly hindered by the fact that she hasn’t bothered to change her bright purple stilettos.

I jog over to them, intent on helping to ease the brunette girl’s burden. They are still near the school by the time I reach them, having exited the door that I know leads into the gym, locker rooms, and athletic supply rooms and offices. Ms. Trinket is just introducing me to the brunette, a shy girl named Annie Cresta who just moved to Meadowglen last week, when the door that we are near opens again.

 _Ooohhh, shhiitt…_ The varsity football team is streaming out and appears to be heading toward the field adjacent to where I just set up my targets. I guess that would be Field One… the varsity team’s practice field. _Damn it._ This is going to be a distraction.

I know I need to look away, need to pretend I’m not desperately hoping to catch my first glimpse of Peeta Mellark since Friday night. I spend half my school days at the community college where I am taking undergraduate freshmen level courses, and the time that I _am_ at the high school apparently has not coincided with Peeta’s schedule. Too bad for me I haven’t exactly mastered the whole ‘out of sight, out of mind’ thing. I must be going insane, because any normal person in my situation would be spending her time fretting about her future, not fantasizing about being laid across the counter of her local bakery, begging the baker’s foxy son to pipe icing onto her skin and then lick it off again…

And, of course, with that thought at the forefront of my mind, Peeta exits the building. It only takes him a moment to spot me, our magnetic connection working its magic as per usual. He continues to walk, but his eyes don’t leave me for several seconds. I try to absorb every detail of him, knowing that his image will occupy countless hours of my thoughts. He looks absolutely adorable in his uniform with his pads creating unnatural body proportions, blue eyes standing out in stark contrast to his black jersey and sun kissed skin. The irresistible half grin that lingers on his face should be illegal.

“Come on, move your ass, Mellark!” one of the coaches calls from ahead of him and the tension between us is broken. He pulls his helmet on and gives me a half wave as he runs off toward the field.

“Have a good practice, boys!!” Ms. Trinket calls cheerfully as the team gathers around Couch Boggs to listen to his hollered instructions.

For the next two hours I can’t decide if I’m in heaven or hell. It is torture trying to pretend that everything is okay, when Peeta Mellark is less than 100 yards away, running drills and scrimmages. On the other hand… Peeta Mellark is less than 100 yards away, running drills and scrimmages…

Finally, Ms. Trinket is clapping her hands and announcing that we need to start herding the children toward where their parents will pick them up, most of them having just finished a 12 hour shift in the mines. I feel a tug on my hand and look down at an adorable little girl who appears to be about six- Sira, I think her name is? “ _Ehscuse_ me, Miss Katniss, can you take me to the potty please?” she says as she squirms her lower body in the universal pee-pee dance.

“Of course, I can, sweetie,” I say as I take her hand and lead her toward the school. As I wait in the bathroom for her to do her business I hear the ruckus of the football team heading into their locker room, which is a few doors down the hallway. By the time Sira has finished and I have helped her wash and dry her hands, the hallway is quiet again. I try to tell myself that I am relieved I have missed seeing Peeta again, but I don’t really believe it.

As we head back outside, Sira immediately takes off toward a shabby blue car idling at the curb and yells back over her shoulder, “There’s mama! Bye bye, Miss Katniss!”

Sadly, I barely have the wherewithal to lift my hand in a wave as I take in the sight heading my way from the football practice field. Three sweaty, shirtless football players are slowly making their way back toward the school… and one of them is Peeta.

 _Holy – Fucking – Shit!_ I think I just might literally fall over and die right here. Thank god, whatever tiny sliver of rational being still that exists in my brain tells me that I can’t just stand here staring at Peeta’s naked chest without suffering from utter humiliation about it afterward. By some miracle I force myself to turn on my heel and head back toward the school.

“Hay, Katniss! Wait up!” I slow my pace without turning around, and he is chuckling as he approaches me. “I seem to be saying that to you a lot lately, huh?” I glance up and see that that damn adorable grin is back. His pads and jersey dangle from one hand, still together as though he just lifted them both over his head at once, and his helmet hangs casually from his other hand. I am trying really hard to not let my gaze linger over his broad chest and flat stomach. I guess I’m not completely successful, since I am able to confirm that he does, in fact, have a trail of light hair under his navel that disappears into his pants. That area has featured prominently in many of the illicit thoughts that have been repeatedly filtering through my mind for the last five days.

“Eh, hey, Peeta. How was practice?” I finally bring myself to ask, trying hard to stare at a point somewhere beyond his shoulder.

“Exhausting,” he sighs, his grin broadening as he finally sets his gear down on the cement.

“Yeah, I bet…” I say stupidly. I’m not good with small talk- or any other kind of talk for that matter.

“So you are a Meadowglen Mentor?” he says gesturing toward the targets I set up earlier. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, well, I just started. Today is my first day.”

“That’s cool. It’s a really good program, I think. Ms. Trinket works really hard to make it a work, doesn’t she?” How is it possible for one person to be so sweet? He make me feel about three inches tall for getting so annoyed with Effie Trinket. Especially since she is trying to help me.

“Yeah, um, the kids are really cute,” again, super awkward…

His smile brightens to megawatt status. It’s like he finds my awkwardness charming or something. God, I don’t stand a chance against that smile.

“So what are you doing right now?” he asks.

“I’m, uh, just going to get my stuff from the school.”

“Right, yeah. I, uh, meant what are you doing now that you are done here for the day?” His eyes sparkle, giving away his amusement at my misunderstanding.

“Oh. Just going home, I guess.”

“Well, I was thinking I would go grab some food somewhere. I’m pretty sure whatever my mom made is cold and inedible by now…” I just stare at him dumbly, not responding. When it becomes apparent I am not going to reply he continues. “So, do you maybe wanna come with me? I mean, you must not have eaten dinner yet either, right?”

“Is that a good idea?” I say after a long pause, blunt and uncouth as always. “Aren’t you dating Madge Undersee?”

 The grin slips off his face and a flush of embarrassment is discernible even beyond the flush from the exertion of his practice. “Um, yeah, sort of. My whole thing with Madge is… I don’t know, it’s weird.” I arch a skeptical brow at him.

I feel so stupid. I realize now I had been holding out some sort of naive hope that what I thought was going on between him and Madge was just me misinterpreting things. But now I know that it’s not, and I desperately need to get away from here. _Now._ “I should go,” I mutter as I turn to walk away.

And stupid girl that I am, I am nearly paralyzed with relief when he doesn’t let me run away this time. He grabs my arm gently to turn me back toward him and his hand on my bare skin feels like a brand, his calloused palm slightly rough against my skin. We are closer than we have ever been before, his beautiful eyes boring into mine. It feels unspeakably intimate, an intense tension stretched between us like a rubber band that will snap at any second.

“Katniss, I know what you probably think, but I’m not a jerk, I swear.” I _know_ he’s not a jerk… But he _is_ taken. And what does it say about me that I don’t even try to pull away or break the tension of the moment. “You asked me a question the other night and I was too much of a coward to answer it,” he continues quietly. “I would like to answer it now, if you’ll let me.”

I start to look down, finally needing to escape the intensity of the moment, but he won’t let me. He uses his free hand to gently lift my chin so I meet his eyes. “Please, Katniss. I don’t want to be a coward anymore.”

I’m not sure what possess me, maybe it’s the fact that absolutely nothing about him speaks of cowardice in this moment, but without thinking about it at all, I find myself silently nodding my head in assent.


	5. A Little Place that Sits Beneath the Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I would love to hear from you :) I'm at plumgal1899 on tumblr.

“You actually waited for me.” I can’t repress my broad grin as I exit the front doors of the school and see Katniss waiting out front just like she said she would. Over the last 13 years I have come to think of her as so elusive and enigmatic, that I half expected her to have disappeared in the 15 minutes it took me to take a quick shower and change after practice.

“I told you I would,” she says, her defensive tone belied by a small, shy smile. She’s always so taciturn that even this slight smile makes me feel like I have scored a major victory. I think I could happily devote myself to making that smile appear forever.

“So do you want to just ride with me and I can bring you back to your car later?” I ask as we head toward the student parking lot.

“Sure, let me just drop this stuff off at my car,” she agrees, gesturing toward the coat and sweater in her hand. The eighteen year old boy part of my brain starts a victory dance that would rival Terrell Owens, knowing that the little black tank top will be maintaining an extended appearance.

After we have settled into my car and I begin driving toward the shops in town I ask, “Is it cool with you if we just pick up something to-go? There is somewhere I want to show you.” She nods her assent, so I drive to a small deli that specializes in gourmet sandwiches, a few doors down from my family’s bakery.

“This place has only been here for a few months. Have you tried it yet?” I ask as I open the door of the shop for her. She just shakes her head, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve put my foot in my mouth. I guess her family wouldn’t consider overpriced gourmet sandwiches a useful allocation of funds.

“Well, just wait- the bread they use is fantastic.” My corny joke actually makes her laugh, because the menu board we are both staring at clearly declares ‘We proudly serve all of our sandwiches on Mellark Family Bakery bread!’ Wow, if I thought just making her smile was a major victory, than making her laugh is like the celebration in the streets of New York City on VE day.

“I want _The Big Cheesy_ ,” she announces pointing at the menu. “It’s made on a cheese bun. Those are my favorite thing that your dad makes.”

I think my face might split with the big goofy grin her statement causes. “You really like the cheese buns? I make those- well they’re made from the recipe I created, anyway.”

Before Friday night, I never could have imagined Katniss blushing about anything, but here she is, doing it again. She is absolutely adorable when she blushes. It makes me realize that she has a vulnerable side that I didn’t know existed because she always seems so capable and independent. I really want to get to know that side of her. I want to know every side of her… I want to know her better than anybody else ever has.

A small tussle ensues after we place our orders because she refuses to let me pay for her sandwich. I have to physically push her hands away from handing the cashier her money, and step in front of her to hand him my own cash.

Once we’re back in the car she glares at me defiantly and states, “I can pay for my own food, you know. It’s not like I _need_ you to feed me, or anything.”

 _Oh shit._ She’s really irritated that I forced her to let me pay. “Hey, I know you can,” I say, trying to placate her- I didn’t mean to offend her, “but I invited you, so I _should_ pay. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.” After a moment I continue, “You know, Katniss, just because someone does something nice for you doesn’t mean they think you need charity. I _know_ you can take care of yourself.”

She seems to accept this and mutters a sheepish apology, “Sorry, I guess it’s not easy for me to accept people doing nice things for me. There was a time when nice things _were_ offered out of pity.”

“I’ve never pitied you,” I state flatly. She honestly must not realize the effect she has. She doesn’t know that she exudes confidence, that no one could ever question her ability to take care of herself.

An awkward silence stretches between us for a few moments until Katniss finally breaks it. “So where exactly are you taking me?” She is looking out the window as I head up a steep hillside on the west side of town. Meadowglen is situated in the valley between two peeks just north of the Appalachian Trail in the northwest corner of North Carolina.  The western peak is my favorite place to go when I need to be by myself- usually to escape my mother’s nagging.

“You’ll see,” I say. I laugh when she raises an eyebrow at me questioningly and continue, “It’s a surprise, you’ll just have to be patient.”

As I pull to a stop in the relatively flat clearing where I usually park, she looks around at our surroundings, bewildered. “I didn’t have you pegged as an outdoorsy kinda guy, Peeta Mellark.” I love hearing my name on her lips.

“Well, I guess you’ve learned something new today then. I love this place. Come on.” I lead her toward the far west side of the clearing, about 50 yards from where I parked. The sun will be setting in an hour or so. I hope she is willing to stay out here with me that long.

We both settle on the grass facing the west and begin eating in silence. I promised her- and myself- that I would finally be honest with her if she came out here with me. Now that the moment has arrived I am daunted by the enormity of it. How can I possibly tell her that I’ve been in love with her since before I even understood what love was? Best case scenario, she won’t even believe me. Worst case scenario… she’ll think I’m a total pyscho. I am contemplating to what level I can portray my fascination with her to reach some sort of happy medium between these two extremes when she speaks, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“Did you bring me out here so that no one would see you with me?”

“What? No! Why would you even think that?” I am horrified that she could’ve misconstrued this so badly.

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re this town’s golden boy and I’m just a nobody from the Seam? Maybe because your _girlfriend_ is Madge-freakin’-Undersee, head cheerleader, mayor’s daughter, hottest girl in school… need I go on?” Her words are harsh, but her tone bleeds with insecurity. Is it possible that she thinks _I’m_ out of _her_ league? Katniss Everdeen- the girl who consumes my thoughts and stars in every fantasy I’ve ever had- can’t figure out how _I_ could be interested in _her._

“Katniss, I brought you here because this is pretty much my favorite place in the whole world- _granted, I haven’t seen much of the world-_ but, of what I have seen no place beats this. I know you spend a lot of time in the woods. I guess I just thought you would see what I see out here.”

She nods and looks off to her right so that I can’t see her face. “I do see it. I just don’t understand why I am the person you would chose to share it with.”

“Katniss… you know why,” I mutter quietly. “You don’t really need me to say it, do you?”

At this she swings her head back around and finally looks directly at me. “I think I do,” she says, “because for six years you haven’t bothered to even speak to me. Then in less than a week, everything has changed, and I don’t know why.”

“ _Thirteen_ years,” I mutter quietly.

“What?”

“Thirteen years,” I repeat more loudly. “I first saw you thirteen years ago. It was our first day of kindergarten and I remember both your mom and dad came to drop you off. Your sister was just a baby on your mom’s hip and your dad was holding your hand. As soon as you saw the older kids going into the school by themselves you just let go of your dad’s hand and marched right in without looking back.” I am quiet for a moment, lost in thought, remembering how scared I was even though I had my two big brothers with me. “Even back then you were independent and self-assured. I don’t know if I could explain it, but I was just fascinated by everything about you from that first moment.”

I’m not sure how much time passes, but I finally admit, “Every day for the past thirteen years I’ve fantasized about just walking up and starting a conversation with you, wondering what would happen if I did.”

“So why didn’t you?” she asks and I’m surprised to hear the emotion lacing her voice.

“I don’t know. Probably for the same reason that _you’ve_ never approached _me_ in the last six years.” She just smiles ruefully and nods before flopping back in the grass and throwing her arm over her eyes. Since she can’t see me I take the opportunity to run my eyes over her trying to absorb every detail of her- her thick braid glinting with sparks from the sunlight, the sliver of midriff revealed from where her stretched arm has caused her tank top to raise, her jean clad legs which are surprisingly long for someone of her stature. 

“Peeta, what did you mean earlier when you said things with Madge were ‘weird’?” she asks, suddenly glancing at me from under her arm. _Damn_ , she definitely just caught me checking her out.

I sigh… Madge… How could I have gotten myself into this situation? Last Friday, after I dropped Katniss off, I returned to the party to find that Madge had already had someone else take her home. I called her, but she wouldn’t tell me what had happened to upset her. She assured me that she wasn’t mad because I left and told me that she was just tired and would call me in the morning. I barely slept that night, thinking about Katniss and how I felt about her. I decided that I would ask Madge to meet me when she called the next morning so that I could be honest with her about the fact that I could never see her as anything other than a friend. Even if nothing ever happened with Katniss, whatever this was between Madge and I had to end.

But Madge never called the next day. I tried calling her several times throughout the weekend, and the only response I received was a text on Sunday night saying that she wasn’t feeling well and didn’t think she’d be in school on Monday. Then Monday became Tuesday, which then became Wednesday, and here I am, still dating Madge because I refuse to break up with her a) via text message- which is the only contact we’ve had- and b) while she’s at home sick, if she really is sick, which I’m not sure I believe.

I am pretty sure if I tell Katniss this whole spiel she’ll think I’m full of shit. “It’s so stupid. Neither of us really even like each other. Well, not the way we are supposed to anyway. I don’t even know why I agreed to go out with her. I guess I was just sick of people saying shit about me not dating, and everybody else seemed to think we should, and she seemed to think we should... So I just went along with it, even though every time we’re together I just keep wishing we could go back to how it was before…” I totally did not expect to unload all of this on her, but it does feel good to get if off my chest.

She’s sitting up now, scowling at me by the time I trail off. “You’re telling me that you’re dating Madge because everybody else thinks you should? You’re right, that is stupid.”

“Well, what about you and Gale Hawthorne? He sleeps with any girl that slows down long enough, but you’re still… whatever you are with him,” I respond, feeling the need to defend myself, even though I know she’s right.

“What about me and Gale? He and I are just friends. We’ve _never_ been anything other than friends, and I wouldn’t have it be otherwise _even if other people thought we should,”_ she mocks me acidly.

This takes the wind out of my sails, mostly because I’m relieved to finally have confirmation that she has never dated Gale. I am much more subdued when I ask, “You probably never feel like you need to do anything because other people think you should.”

“No, not really. I usually know exactly what I want. As long as it is something that is good for me and my sister, then there is no reason not to do exactly what I want.” She is so sure of herself.

“So, what do you want then? What’s your plan?” I ask.

“My plan? Like for the future?” I nod and she continues, “Well, I am going to UNC-Chapel Hill. They have the best Conservation Biology program in the state. I’ve already been accepted to their honors program. When I graduate I am going to apply for a fellowship to get my master’s degree in Wildlife Conservation from Appalachian State.”

“Wow, you do know exactly what you want,” I say, smiling now.

“What about you? What do you want?”

“Uh, I’m going to go to University of Pennsylvania. They have a really good business program there. My mom wants me to get my business degree and then come back here and work on establishing more Mellark Family Bakeries regionally. I think she has some big dream that we can become a franchise someday, or something,” I shrug and look away as I finish.

“Oookaaay, so that is what your mom wants, but I asked what you want.”

“What I want doesn’t really matter. She won’t pay for me to go to school for anything else.” Judging by the look she gives me at this, Katniss is totally disturbed by this.

“That is total shit. She can’t force you to do something you don’t want to,” she states emphatically.

“It’s fine. It’ll make her happy, and I’m not about to complain about getting a good education.”

“Peeta! _You_ have to be happy too, you know. Tell me. If you could do one thing- anything- what would it be?”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t matter,” I say evasively.

“Yes it does! Come on, I really want to know. Tell me, _please.”_

I laugh nervously and tell her, “Okay, but you can’t make fun of me… If it was up to _me_ , I think I would like to go to school for culinary arts. Stupid right? I know it’s totally impractical, but-“

“It is not stupid! I think you should do it! If that is what would make you happy that’s exactly what you should do,” she sounds so passionate and confident that I can’t help but smile. “Just because your parents pay your tuition doesn’t mean they should get to decide what you do with your life.”

“Yeah, except that my mom has made it perfectly clear that she won’t pay for it otherwise,” I mutter.

“Well, you get good grades, and if those cheese buns are any indication than you are really talented, too. Not to mention that you are class president _and_ the state champ in wrestling… I bet you could easily get a scholarship.”

“Culinary schools don’t typically have wrestling teams, Katniss,” I say, trying to temper her enthusiasm. It’s kind of embarrassing to have her make out like any of that stuff is a big deal.

“Don’t be so self-deprecating. You are good at _literally_ everything you try. The only thing standing in your way is a fear of not living up to other people’s expectations,” she announces, quirking an eyebrow at me as though she’s made a great point- which I have to admit, she has.

“Well, it’s all right. I don’t need to figure it out today,” I say, trying to change the subject. I don’t really want to get too far into a conversation about my mom and her expectations of me. “Look,” I say gesturing toward the horizon, “the sun is about to set.”

Neither of us says anything for a while as we sit, shoulder to shoulder, and watch the sun sink behind the next hillock to the west of us. I really wish I could put my arm around her, but I still haven’t resolved the issue of _technically_ still having a girlfriend, and I don’t want Katniss to think I am trying to put the moves on her while I’m still with Madge.

“This is my favorite color,” I admit when the sky is lit up brightly with a vibrant orange.

She turns her head towards me, looking wonderingly as though she’s just had an epiphany. “That mural in the municipal building… It’s this, isn’t it?” she asks, gesturing around us.

I nod slightly, blushing. “Peeta! You painted that? Oh my god, that’s amazing!” she says grabbing my arm. Her hands are freezing- it has gotten considerably cooler than it was when we left the school. _Oh to hell with it,_ I think as I slide my arm out of her grasp and slip it around her shoulders. I am half expecting her to protest, so I am astonished when she nestles her head on my chest and lets me rub my hand up and down her right arm. I try to memorize how the friction created between her goosebumped skin and my palm feels.

“Are you going to continue to date Madge?” she whispers.

“No,” I state simply.

“Is it okay if we try to be friends?” she says glancing up at me, her molten silver eyes meeting mine.

“You couldn’t get rid of me now if you tried,” I smile over her head as she looks back to the horizon. The sun has completely set now and Katniss is clearly cold, but neither of us makes any move to leave.


	6. I Got Nothin' On Ya, Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I would love to hear from you :D plumgal1899 on tumblr

_I step lightly, slightly hunched to make my body as compact as possible, carefully settling my leather clad foot on the blanket of soft leaves that lay thick upon the forest floor. My progress is totally silent, as I stalk further into the copse of dense woods, still hazy with mountain fog that has not yet dissolved in the weak pre-dawn light. Errant wisps of hair escaping my loose braid stick to my face, damp from the moist air and my own perspiration which has sprung up on my skin with the adrenaline of my impending kill. The sound of twigs snapping against the wet ground alerts me to my prey moving, perhaps 30 yards up wind. A soft breeze whispers across my skin, working with the moisture gathered there to cool my warm face, and I lift my head, hoping to catch the scent of my quarry. I suddenly realize that the air is thick with the scent of cinnamon, making it impossible for me to distinguish the unique fragrance that will allow me to determine what my target is._

_I freeze at the sound of more branches snapping and the rustling of leaves on the ground. I can see my prey moving out from behind a thicket of brush- closer now, only 15 yards or so away- and I don’t want to draw attention to my position or scare it away. I slowly begin to raise my bow, arrow already notched and ready to fire, pulling the string taut until my right hand is next to my face. I am just on the verge of releasing my hand to let the arrow fly when the sun begins to peak over the eastern hillock, penetrating the dense fog, and I realize my mistake. My quarry is not a beast, but a man- the man who has held exclusive domain over my thoughts for the entirety of the past week._

_“Peeta. What are you doing here?” I gasp._

_“There you are,” he says, his beautiful smile stretching across his face. “I’ve been waiting for you.”_

_The rising sun begins to turn the morning fog into vapor allowing me to see him more clearly, but it does nothing to dispel the haze of my muddled thoughts. Moments ago, everything was so clear and crisp, my senses alive with the thrill of the hunt, every sight and sound familiar. But I cannot reconcile Peeta’s presence here- I have never seen another soul in these woods other than me and Gale. And Peeta is not dressed for hunting; in fact, he wears only a pair of loose fitting jeans riding low on his hips. His chest and feet are bare, his damp hair tousled._

_I walk toward him, unable to resist the pull to be near him. “I didn’t know,” I murmur once I am directly in front of him, so close that I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes. “How long have you been out here?”_

_He chuckles and the low sound reverberates through my chest, moving downward to land between my legs where a familiar ache forming. “A long time,” he finally answers. “I’ve been waiting a long time.”_

_I don’t resist at all when he places both of his hands on my waist and pulls me toward him so that our bodies are completely flush. He lowers his head and begins running his nose along the side of my neck and inhales deeply. “You smell like the woods,” he whispers into my skin._

_“You smell like cinnamon,” I return._

_He laughs softly again and says, “That’s not me.” I want to tell him that it must be, because that scent doesn’t belong to the woods, but at that moment I feel his lips softly graze my neck, stealing my ability to speak. Before I know what is happening I am lying down on the forest floor and Peeta is lowering himself over me. I can feel moisture from the wet leaves seeping through my clothes, but I don’t understand why it’s warm- surely the dewy ground should be cool this early in the morning. Peeta brings his face to mine and I raise my chin in a silent plea for him to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead his lips coast over my cheeks and forehead, his breath sighing across my closed eyelids._

_“Kiss me,” I plead._

_He continues his slow path across my face, rubbing his nose down mine then heading toward my left ear where his whispers, “I can’t.”_

_“Why?” I am panting now, the ache at my center becoming so acute that I have to clench my thighs together for some relief._

_He takes his time about answering, softly running his lips back across my cheekbones until he has reached the other side to speak into my right ear. “Because I’m not here.” His breath tickles my ear and the low hum of his voice draws my nipples into tight peaks. I know I should be mortified by the moisture I feel seeping at my core, but the intensity of the throbbing there makes any coherent thought impossible._

_“Peeta, I need you,” I gasp, reaching frantically for his right hand where it is braced amongst the leaves on the ground next to my head. He complies with my desperate clawing and lets me drag his hand between my legs where I urgently need him to apply pressure. I can’t repress my strangled sob when I finally feel his hand there, pressing hard, cupping me where I have become wet through my thin pants and underwear._

_After a moment, my hips are bucking upward of their own accord and I can’t begin to control the low moans I am emitting. “Peeta!” I gasp as he increases the pressure of his hand, pushing hard so that he can reach my sensitive clit through my clothes._

_“Katniss!” He says urgently. I can’t respond, everything in me is focused on where his hand is rubbing me, the pressure building to a desperate crescendo. “Katniss!” he says again, louder this time. I shake my head wildly, not wanting to be distracted from the release that is so close._

“KATNISS!!” My eyes snap open as I am jolted awake by the sound of Prim’s voice. I am disoriented for a few moments as my brain adjusts to the abrupt end of my sweet dream. I slowly realize that I am in my bed, sweat plastering my shirt to my back and my hair to my face, my hand tucked firmly between my legs. I want to scream with frustration as I come to the realization that I am not alone in the woods with Peeta, and that my impending release has just been put to a cruel and unceremonious end.

“What, Prim?!” I shout. It takes a lot for me to get annoyed with my sister, but this does it.

“Dinner’s done,” she says, jiggling the door handle. “Why is your door locked?”

I don’t remember locking it when I came up here to start my homework earlier, but I am grateful that it is locked now. I couldn’t even begin to imagine my humiliation at being caught sleep-masturbating by my little sister.

“I must’ve fallen asleep. I’ll be right down,” I call to her, silently willing her to go away so that I can have a few minutes to collect myself. After a short hesitation I hear her retreat down the stairs and I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Closing my eyes I try to recall the details of my interrupted dream as I slip my hand under the waistband of my yoga pants and into my panties. The image of Peeta’s shirtless body on top of mine comes to mind- of which I now have a visual based in reality thanks to my encounter with him after football practice the other day- and I try to pretend it is his hand sliding against my wetness instead of my own. After a few more moments of picturing his strong hand working on me and fantasizing about running my own hands along his back to feel the muscles shifting with his movements, my efforts are rewarded with a small release- nothing compared to what it was promising to be when I was still asleep and didn’t know that Peeta was not actually there with me.

Removing my hand I lay still for a few moments as I wait for my heart rate to return to normal. _Okay, so my attraction to Peeta Mellark has reached masturbatory levels._ No possibility of denying it now… I want him, no doubt about it.

I reach for my phone, feeling the slight twinge of anticipation that has become familiar to me in the last two days, hoping to see a text from him. We exchanged numbers before he dropped me off at my car on Wednesday night and, while I haven’t seen him in person since then, we have been texting back and forth nearly constantly. Every time I pick up my phone and see his name on the screen, I experience a small spark of excitement. There is nothing there right now, however, so I open our message feed and begin reading through our previous conversations. I’m not proud of the fact that I have done this several times in the last two days. 

I am grateful that his game tonight is away because I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from going up there if it wasn’t. I am trying to set up some boundaries, but it is proving to be surprisingly difficult. We were up last night texting until well after midnight, which explains why I passed out this afternoon, and I can’t bring myself to scold him for the flirty subtext of our conversations. But boundaries are necessary, especially since his ‘technical’ girlfriend is still MIA from school so he hasn’t had the chance to break up with her yet. He told me that she basically _had_ to be at tonight’s game, though, and he was going to make sure it happened tonight, even if it meant ‘tackling her and pinning her down to make her listen.’ His words, not mine.

Downstairs, I hear the doorbell ring and a ruckus ensues as the Hawthorne clan files into our house. _Shit._ I forgot our weekly dinner with the Hawthornes was tonight instead of our usual Saturday gathering. My mom and Gale’s mom, Hazel, are good friends. They met at work when my mom got a job cleaning houses for the same company that Hazel works for. My mom worked there for two years after my father died (when she finally got out of bed) while she finished the nursing degree she had been working on when she and my dad met.

Hazel still works there, but my mom finished her degree four years ago and got a job at a hospital in Asheville. Our family is close with the Hawthornes- Gale and I, having discovered a mutual love for the woods, became inseparable almost immediately when Hazel started bringing her kids around, and Prim and the second son, Rory, are very close, as well. We take turns hosting a weekly dinner every Saturday, but my mom picked up an extra shift for tomorrow night, so it got moved to Friday this week. I forgot all about it in my preoccupation with Peeta over the last few days.

Hearing the commotion downstairs I decide to haul myself out of bed before the youngers of the Hawtorne brood decide to come seek me out. I change into clean panties and a pair of jeans and dash into the bathroom to make sure I’m presentable before I make my way downstairs. As I approach the kitchen I register that the whole house smells like cinnamon- my mom must be making her bread pudding- I guess Dream Peeta was right. It wasn’t him.

I am surprised to see Gale here, pulling a large casserole dish out of the oven under my mother’s instruction, because he usually works on Friday nights. He is still very much on my shit list for last Friday, when he decided that he wasn’t going to bother to stay sober enough to drive me home even though he said he would. I can tell by the sheepish look he gives me that he knows I’m pissed. It’d be kind of hard for him not to since I’ve ignored all of his texts and phone calls all week.

“Hey, Catnip,” he says, probably hoping to soften me up with the nickname.

“Hey, asshole,” I return. My mom gives me a sharp look, but doesn’t say anything. I think she realizes that, after the way she handled my father’s death, any effort to tell me how to behave would fall on deaf ears. To say that our relationship has been strained since then would be putting it lightly.

Gale comes to me and grabbing my right arm steers me gently out the back door off the small kitchen. “Look, I’m really sorry about Friday night,” he says once we are outside.

I don’t look at him as I snap back, “Yeah, you should be, Gale. You decided you were going throw a temper tantrum over Madge Undersee, and you didn’t give a shit what happened to me.”

“I know, I know. It was a total dickhead move. God, she just makes me fucking crazy. Like, all the time… and I always end up acting like an asshole in some way. I’m no proud of it,” he pauses for a moment before he goes on quietly. “I know I just need to forget about her and move on, but I just can’t seem to do it.”

“You seemed to be moving on just fine with that other cheerleader. How do you expect Madge to ever take you seriously when you are clearly determined to fuck your way through all of her friends?” I say nastily.

“Nothing happened with that girl, I swear. The whole night was just so fucked-up, I can’t even begin to tell you…” he trails off and I know there is something he’s not saying.

“What happened, Gale?” I ask, dropping my attitude in the face of his obvious distress.

“Nothing. Nothing, I just got too drunk, you know. That’s all.” I can tell that he’s not telling me everything, but I don’t get a chance to push it because at that moment Hazel calls us to come eat.

I never do get a chance to bring it up with him again because he has to eat quickly and leave so that he can be to work by eight. He sometimes has these crazy twelve hour shifts where he works overnight from eight to eight. I hate that he has to work like this, but he really doesn’t have any choice. Hazel needs his help and he would do anything for his family. He is convinced that if he works hard enough, between him and Hazel all of the other kids will have the opportunity to escape the Seam when they come of age. Gale definitely has his flaws, but nobody who knows him well could doubt that he really is a good guy.

* * *

 

A few hours later I feel my phone buzz in my pocket as I am just finishing up the dishes. Everybody else is in the other room in the middle of a heated round of  _Catch Phrase_ . My stomach swoops with excitement when I see that it is a text from Peeta.  _Please tell me he talked to Madge…_

_P: I did it_

Holy shit. Part of me really thought it wouldn’t happen. How do I respond? I’m glad for my sake, but now that I know they broke up I am hit with something like remorse. I know Peeta said that he didn’t think that Madge really liked him, but what if he was wrong? Did I push him to do this? He definitely said he never really wanted to date her, but did I break them up? How could I have been so absorbed in my own feelings that I didn’t think about Madge? _Because you’re totally falling for this guy- and probably have been for years- that’s how._

 _K: :/ How did it go?_ I finally type in response.

_P: Ehhh okay I guess… she seemed more upset than I expected. I kinda feel like shit right now_

Oh no, he totally regrets it! Maybe I did push him into this…

_K: …do you regret it? I’m sorry, this is my fault isn’t it?_

_P: What!?! no I don’t regret it. and no this is not your fault!_

I don’t even have time to respond as he starts sending me rapid fire texts.

_P: I have wanted to end things with Madge for a while now. it was the right thing to do_

_P: I’m really glad that its over, I just expected her to be on the same page but she just wasn’t I don’t know… I just don’t like letting people down I guess_

_P: I don’t really want to talk about this via text_

_P: honestly I wish I could just see you right now_

This last text causes a small smile to spread across my face.

_K: I wish I could see you too_

_P: can you meet me somewhere?_

God, that is so tempting. But how would I explain that to a house full of people. Where could I possibly tell them I am going after 10pm?

_K: I want to, but I don’t think I can. My mom and sister are home and we have guests over. :(_

_P: yeah, my mom expects me home anyway… what are you doing this weekend?_

_K: I promised Prim I would take her shopping for homecoming on Sunday, but I am free tomorrow._

_P: damn, I work tomorrow and I promised Rhys I would help him move when I get out_

_K: Rhys?_

_P: my oldest brother. you don’t even know my brothers’ names!? you really weren’t paying attention all those years were you ;)_

_K: I’m sorry! We don’t exactly run in the same circle, Mr. Goldenboy…_

_P: lol, I’m just messing with you, it’s cool, Ms. Too Cool and Mysterious to Pay Attention to Lowly Peeta Mellark_

_K: Shut up! You know that’s not how it was!_

He is so adorable, how could I possibly resist him. This is why I am having trouble setting boundaries. We decided to just be friends, but he makes it so hard by being so damn cute.

_P: I know :) maybe you can come to the bakery tomorrow during the day, I am working by myself_

_P: I want to tell you how it went with madge… and I just want to see your face…_

_K: Okay, I can do that. You sure you’ll be there alone?_

I don’t want to see his mom.

_P: yeah, come at 2, it will be slow by then so we can hang out_

_K: okay, I’ll be there ;) I should get back to our guests, though… See you tomorrow._

_P: :) Goodnight_

* * *

“Let me see it!” I whine. I am trying to lean over the tall pastry case to see what Peeta is drawing. He is sitting on a stool behind the case, holding his left arm up to shield his sketch pad which is propped on his thigh while his right hand is moving furiously across the page. I am too short to even begin to lean over far enough to see it.

“No way! Maybe it’s private, did you ever think of that?” He responds, laughing.

“I know you’re drawing _me_ , so it better not be private.”

“How do you know what I’m drawing? It could be a landscape for all you know.”

“I know because you kept looking at me and then back at the sketch pad. I swear to god, Peeta, it better not be anything embarrassing,” I threaten, my attempt at sounding menacing ruined by my very un-Katniss-like giggles.

“Well, that depends… How embarrassed are you by nudity?” His dimples deepen with a broad smile and his blue eyes flash with humor.

“No way! Peeta Mellark, I would never talk to you again if you ever did that!”

His smile slips a little and a deep flush spreads across his face. “Peeta, tell me you’ve never drawn me naked…”

“I’ve never drawn you naked,” he says in a monotone voice not meeting my eye. I gasp and cover my mouth because it is obvious he is lying. There must be something really wrong with me because I should be outraged by this, but really I just find it kind of… exciting.

My face is starting to hurt from smiling so much. I have been here for over an hour and for all but the first ten minutes, when he recounted the details of his break-up with Madge, he has been making me laugh. I can’t believe how easy it is to be around him, especially since I am a pretty socially awkward person. Peeta just has a talent for always saying the right thing to put a person at ease. _Seriously, is there anything he isn’t talented at?_ I am still trying to find something.

We are quiet for the next few moments as he finishes his picture and I take the opportunity to just watch him. There is something so hot about watching him draw. His hands move effortlessly, as though they just know where to go without his brain telling them, and his brow furrows slightly, his lips drawing inward as he concentrates. With his eyes cast downward toward the sketch pad it is easy for me to see how exceptionally long lashes are. You would never notice unless you were really looking because they are so light.

He finishes the picture with a flourish, scrawling his name boldly across the bottom before he rips it from the pad and hands it to me. My heart swells and tears prick my eyes when I see what he has drawn. It is my family as he saw us on my first day of school. I am standing next to my father holding his left hand, his right is resting on my mother’s lower back and she holds baby Prim propped on her hip.

“Peeta…” I say softly, my voice thick with emotion. I cannot believe how accurately he has remembered so many details. He clearly remembers what my father looked like on that day, whereas I depend on photographs to remind me what he looked like, his face blurring in all of my actual memories. “This is just…” My inability with words is frustrating my attempt to respond.

“Katniss, it’s fine. It’s nothing,” he says, moving from behind the counter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he says as he wraps his arms around me, and I bury my face in his chest.

“No, don’t be sorry,” my voice is muffled but I think he understands. “It’s so beautiful.” I feel his face press into my hair, and he inhales deeply. My stomach clenches hard at the pleasure of this gesture and I squeeze my arms a little tighter around his lean waist.

I’m not sure how long we stand together like this, neither of us inclined to move, enjoying the silence of the empty bakery and the feel of each other. I jump when our moment is interrupted by a harshly unpleasant voice coming from behind the counter.

“Peeta!” We both look up and see his mother standing in the doorway that leads to the kitchen. The look on her face speaks of absolute contempt. I can’t decide if that look is meant for me or her son… It could easily be both.

“Um, sorry mom. This is my friend Katniss, um, she was just leaving,” he mutters, turning an apologetic look toward me.

His mother doesn’t say anything else, but the look on her face leaves no room to misunderstand her thoughts on finding me here hugging her son. I head to the door and look back toward Peeta before I walk through it. He meets my gaze and I think I see him mouth “sorry” at me before I turn away and walk out the door.

As the tinkle of the bell on the door fades I try to block out the abusive words I hear Mrs. Mellark directing at her son. I sit in my car for a few moments looking at the drawing Peeta just gave me. How could a woman like that raise a man who was capable of creating something this beautiful. It makes my heart ache for him more than I ever thought possible.


	7. I Feel the Heat I See the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! ;) I'm plumgal1899 on tumblr.

“Peeta, you’re here awfully early.”

I glance away from the easel I am working at and see Portia, my art teacher, breeze into the room carrying some kind of blended green smoothie and about six canvas bags full of god knows what. It appears as though she is on the verge of losing it all, so I hop up and hurry to help her.

“Yeah,” I say over my shoulder as I carry the bags into her small office toward the back of the room, “I wanted to make sure I finished the piece that you assigned me because it’s due Monday and I can’t come in this weekend to work on it.”

“Ah, have big plans for Halloween, do you?” she asks distractedly as she approaches the piece I have been working on, tilting her head thoughtfully to study it while she continues to sip on her smoothie. Portia is one of those new age hippies who subscribes to holistic medicine, believes in the healing power of art, and insists that the students call her by her first name to affirm that she is not part of ‘the establishment.’ She is also, by far, my favorite teacher.

When it became apparent that my artistic ability had far surpassed the level taught by any of the regular art courses, Portia had agreed to direct me in a series of independent studies. This semester she has me working on a series of experiments with atmospheric projection in my work. My current assignment is to play with contrast and brightness to make a familiar landscape seem alien. The setting I have chosen for this painting is the forest, a decision definitely motivated by all the time I have been spending with Katniss over the past five weeks.

“Um, yeah,” I answer her, “my friend, Finnick, is having a big party tomorrow and I still haven’t gotten my costume together so that’ll probably take all day tomorrow…”

“And then Sunday will be spent recovering, right?” she asks with a knowing grin.

I chuckle and say, “Well, I’m not much of a drinker, but it is Halloween… and my friend Katniss is really into it so I want to make sure we have a good time, you know?” Portia is not the type of adult that you need to lie to about drinking and stuff. In fact, I’m pretty sure she drives off campus to get high at lunchtime every day.

“Hmm… So, Peeta, what plans have you made for after you leave this den of iniquity known as Meadowglen High School?” She does this a lot, decides a conversation is no longer holding her interest and abruptly changes the topic without warning.

“Oh, I uh, I’m going to U Penn to study business,” I say trying to sound casual. This has become somewhat of a bone of contention with me because I’ve had to spend the past month justifying my decision to study business. Katniss never misses an opportunity to tell me how stupid this is and that I should be looking at culinary schools and applying for scholarships.

“Really?” Portia asks, her eyebrows shooting upward with clear surprise and a hint of skepticism. _Here we go again._ “I guess I didn’t have you pegged as someone who would devote their life to the pursuit of bourgeois consumerism, but okay…”

I sigh loudly. It is becoming exhausting having to continually defend myself about this. “Well, I don’t really have a choice,” I say with more than a hint of exasperation. “My parents are paying for my school. My mom wants me to study business, it’s her money paying for it, so I will study business. It’s that simple.” I don’t sound convincing even to myself.

“That’s total bullshit, Peeta. In this life, you always have a choice.”

“Yeah, you’re right. My choice right now is to do what I want to do, and land myself in debt a hundred thousand dollars and have my family hate me, or let my parents pay for my school and study business which will make everyone happy. Why do people keep acting like choosing the second option is totally irrational?” I ask, scrubbing a hand through my hair in frustration.

“So going to U Penn would really ‘make everyone happy’?” she asks as though she is making some grand point. And I guess she actually _is_ because, in all honesty, the answer is _no_. I would be miserable, my dad probably really just wants me to do whatever I want, and nothing I do will ever satisfy my mother- she’s determined to be miserable in life no matter how much everyone tries to please her.

Portia knows she has made her point when I answer with little conviction, “Well, that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t have money for school and there is no way my mom will pay for me to go for visual or culinary arts, which are the only two things I would really want to study.”

“Listen, Peeta, I’m going to lay this down for you. I probably shouldn’t, but I feel like it’s necessary if I am going to save you from making a huge cluster- excuse my language- fuck of your future. You are class president, a champion wrestler, one of the best students in the school, and, by far, the best artist I’ve ever taught. There is absolutely no reason to assume you would ever pay for a dime of your schooling if you would just stop making excuses and believe in yourself. There are so many scholarships out there that you would be a shoe in for,” she says emphatically. She pauses for a moment as though considering if she should say something else. “Okay, I’m going to tell you something, but it _cannot_ leave this room that I discussed this with you. You understand?”

I nod my head slowly and she continues. “Did you know that I am on the committee that selects the valedictorian each year?” she doesn’t give me a chance to respond before she goes on, “Well I am. It is not definite yet, but I am reasonably sure we are going to name you valedictorian this year, Peeta. That would make you a prime candidate for more scholarships than you can imagine. If you start researching and getting your applications together, you can send them out right away once we officially name the valedictorian in January and I am certain you will get all the financial support you could possibly need.”

I don’t even know how to respond to this. I never would have even guessed I was being considered for this. I _know_ that there are better students at this school than me- starting with Katniss. “But… I’m not the best student here,” I finally answer.

“Academically, no, certainly not, but you are a _very good_ student and we take much more than academics into account. Look, I am not into all of this judging and pigeonholing that the administration here seems to relish; but I do believe in giving kids every opportunity to succeed, and I think that this is a great opportunity for you, Peeta. You have too much talent to let it go to waste. Promise me you will at least look into your options for other schools and scholarships that may be made available to you, especially if you get valedictorian.”

“Okay, I promise,” I assure her.

She nods once and turns on her heal heading toward her office and calls over her shoulder, “Okay then. I will let you get back to work.” And just like that I am dismissed in her typical abrupt manner.

But now I am too distracted to focus on my painting as my thoughts are coming a mile a minute. _Is this actually possible?_ I never really even bothered thinking about applying for scholarships because I just banked on going to U Penn and letting my parents pay for it. Neither of my brothers went to college, so the money my parents set aside is more than enough to cover my schooling. Rhys married young and lives in Asheville with his wife and kids where he got a job driving truck that pays pretty good. Rhian went into the marines and is currently serving his second tour overseas.

I haven’t even seriously looked at culinary schools because I always just assumed that it wasn’t an option for me, but now that the possibility has entered my mind, I find myself becoming excited about the prospect of looking into it. Maybe I’ll even apply to a few… It doesn’t hurt to apply right? It will just keep my options open so that I can figure out what I want to do later when the time comes.

* * *

By the time I arrive at Katniss’ house early Saturday afternoon I am ridiculously excited to tell her that I am looking into culinary schools and scholarships. I stayed up half the night after I got home from my game last night, researching schools online and printing out applications for scholarships I may be eligible for. I can’t wait to tell Katniss because I know how happy she will be that I have finally decided consider other options.

I experience a slight twinge of disappointment when I see Annie Cresta’s car already parked in Katniss’ driveway as I pull in. She and Annie, who she met through the Meadowglen Mentors program, have become friends pretty quickly over the past month. I don’t know the whole story about Annie, but as far as I can tell, Annie had lost both of her parents over the summer in some kind of accident and so she moved here to live with her aunt and uncle. She seems to have found a kindred spirit in Katniss because they both know what it is like to lose someone. On top of that, they are both shy and kind of awkward so their friendship has grown out of a mutual desire to avoid most social situations.

Tonight, however, they have both agreed to come with me to Finnick’s party. I really like Annie- she’s so sweet it would be impossible not to- but since she is coming to the party with us tonight, I had hoped I would get some alone time with Katniss this afternoon. We are going to hit up the Halloween Express and the mall in Asheville to get the remaining items needed for our costumes. Katniss had the idea for me and her to go together as Hawkeye and Black Widow from The Avengers since she already has all the archery equipment for me to be Hawkeye. I readily agreed for two reasons: first, I’m happy to take any opportunity to do something with Katniss that appears coupley, and second, the thought of Katniss in that tight one-piece black suit basically makes me want to weep with joy. Let’s just say that my showers have become extra-long ever since she proposed the idea a few weeks ago…

Katniss answers the door almost immediately after I knock and I am taken aback by how gorgeous she looks. I have moments like this a lot, but today is even more exceptional because her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are alight with excitement.

She grabs my hand and pulls me into the living room. Annie and Prim are both sitting on the couch and I don’t miss the knowing look they give each other as Katniss talks a mile a minute- not letting go of my hand- about what she has gathered for our costumes. “Okay, so I am just going to where these black skinny jeans and then Annie brought me this jacket- it is super tight so it looks perfect. Prim had this belt-” she indicates a dark grey cargo belt with a large black plastic buckle, “-and I will just wear my black boots. So I think the only thing I need to get today is a holster and two black water guns.” She pauses briefly to take a breath and then launches off again. “Okay, for you I have my bow and quiver, which are both black so they work perfectly. I found these old leather gloves that Gale left a while ago. I cut slits in them so they actually look like archery gloves. Do you have a tight black shirt that we can just cut the sleeves off of?” I nod and she continues, “Awesome! Then you can just where your black jeans and some boots. I think the only thing we will need to get you is maybe a belt and some accessories.”

I am grinning from ear to ear because she is so excited and it makes me really happy to see her this way. “What?” she asks, confused by my blissful expression.

“Nothing. You’re just so excited… It’s adorable.”

This causes a dark blush and she glances over at Prim and Annie, probably hoping they didn’t hear me. It is obvious from the amused expressions that they did hear me and they are thoroughly entertained by our exchange.

I honestly cannot believe how close Katniss and I have become in just over a month. Since I broke up with Madge we hang out together at least a couple of times a week and text constantly the rest of the time. Everything with her just feels so easy and natural. We don’t agree on everything and in some ways we are total opposites, but all of that stuff just makes her seem more interesting to me. It has been both the best month of my life and also pure torture. I thought it was hard to love Katniss from afar, but I know realize that that was so much easier than being close to her and having to hold myself in check. I told her we would be friends and I’m going to stick to that until she gives me some clue that she is ready for more. But it isn’t easy. To be near all the time, to smell her unique scent which is both sweetly musky and woodsy all at the same time, to hear her slightly raspy voice say my name… I have basically been a walking hard-on this entire time. Even still, I haven’t questioned it once, having Katniss in my life is worth the agony of enduring my attraction to her.

After a few moments I finally have the presence of mine to try to steer the focus away from Katniss and I. “So, Annie, what are you going as?”

“Oh, um, I’m going to just use my Hermione Granger costume from last year so I already have everything I need. But I thought I would just tag along to help you guys find your stuff, if that’s okay…” she murmurs timidly.

I rush to reassure her, feeling a little guilty about my prior wish to be alone with Katniss. “Of course it’s okay! The more the merrier, right?” Looking at Prim I ask, “Do you want to come, too?”

“Oh no, thank you. Some of my friends are coming over and we are just going to stay in and watch scary movies tonight,” she says in her sweet little voice.

“That sounds like fun,” I smile. “Well then, ladies. We should probably get going if we want to get there before the stores are totally picked clean.”

* * *

Later that night I am sitting in Katniss’ living room which is uncomfortably full of fourteen-year-old girls. I would have to be blind and deaf to miss the furtive glances and giggles that are directed my way every few seconds. I lean forward on the couch looking toward the staircase, bouncing my knee with impatience. Annie and Katniss are both upstairs finishing getting ready. I have been here for over an hour waiting, feeling more ridiculous by the second in my Hawkeye getup, being gawked at by a room full of freshmen girls.  _What the hell is taking so long?_

I am on the verge of snapping and storming upstairs to demand to know what the hell they’re doing, when I finally hear them making their way down. Annie is first and she looks cute in her Hermione costume wearing a school girl skirt, long cloak, and her hair teased out and bushy. But I don’t even spare her a second glance because Katniss is coming down the stairs right behind her.

 _Holy. Fucking. Hell. I’m going to die tonight. I am, literally, going to die tonight._ Every stich of clothing on her body is so tight that it looks like it could’ve been spray painted on. She has the jacket Annie lent her partly unzipped to reveal a glimpse of cleavage. _Fuck, that’s her bra!_ I am certain that the little glimpse of black lace I see peeking out of the top of her jacket is definitely her bra! She has fastened the cargo belt high on her waist and the gun holster low on her hips which serves to emphasize the narrowness of her waist and the swell of her hips. Her hair has been left down to fall around her shoulders in soft curls. This is the first time I have seen it down and I am overwhelmed by the urge to walk up to her and burry my face in it. I have to admit that that urge is followed closely by the urge to bury my face in her exposed cleavage, as well.

 _“Peeta!”_ I finally hear her whine emphatically and I realize that I have just been standing here ogling her for way too long. Her face is beet red and I can hear Prim’s friends giggling uncontrollably behind me. Annie is trying and failing to hide her grin as she takes in my reaction to Katniss’ costume.

I finally avert my gaze from where it has landed on Katniss’ breasts (that damn little bit of bra peeking out to be exact) and desperately try to think of something else. These pants are way too tight to hide the erection that is working its way from semi to full-blown right now.

I try to speak and am mortified when the only sound I emit is a dry rasping croak and the giggles behind me grow louder. Clearing my throat I try again and am relieved when actual words come out. “Um, you both look good, um, really great,” I mutter stupidly. There is an awkward silence in which nobody responds to me and I finally say, “Alright, then. Let’s just head out I guess.”

I open the front door and Annie and Katniss file out in front of me. As soon as the door closes behind us I hear the girls inside erupt into loud peals of hysterical laughter.

* * *

Finnick’s house is already totally packed by the time we arrive. As usual he has two guys stationed at the front door, each manning a keg. Given Finnick’s flare for the dramatic I’m not surprised to see the lavish decorations that have been strung across every available surface and wall space. It appears that none of the overhead lights have been turned on anywhere; instead the party is dimly lit by stings of purple, orange and green Halloween lights. Rihanna’s “S&M” is blaring throughout the house. I actually helped Finnick put together a playlist for tonight so that all of the songs could be construed to be in keeping with the holiday in some way.

The girls each take a beer on our way inside but I refuse the one offered to me. I don’t want to start drinking until I am sure we’ll have a way home tonight. Finnick has supposedly hired a guy that has a big van who will be giving people rides, but I just what to make sure this is actually happening before I start drinking.

I have my left arm around Katniss’ shoulder protectively and Annie has ahold of my right forearm so that we don’t get separated as we maneuver through the crowded rooms. From ahead I Finnick call out, “Mellark! You fucking pimp! Look at you showing up with _two_ hot girls!” When I finally spot him I see that he is standing on a coffee table, which has been pushed up against the wall, so that he can see over everybody.

I laugh as I call back, pushing my way towards him, “What can I say? The ladies look at me and they like what they see…” I smirk at Katniss and her only response is an amused eye roll.

“You’re lookin’ hot, Everdeen! Damn!” Katniss blushes but doesn’t seem to be too bothered by his comment. She has been exposed to Finnick more than a few times over the past month so she knows not to pay attention to anything he says.

“Hey, are you dressed as Ron Weasley?” she asks taking in his red and gold striped tie and black sweater.

He points to his coppery colored hair and says, “Of course. I’m working with what god gave me.”

“This is my friend Annie. She came as Hermione!” Katniss says smiling broadly, she is clearly delighted by the coincidence.

Finnick’s cocky grin falters when he glances over at Annie, who is looking down shyly. “Hi, Katniss’ friend Annie. I’m Finnick O’dair,” he says extending his hand down to her. She takes it reluctantly and gives it a halfhearted shake without really looking at him. I am surprised when Finnick just steps down from the table without making any smart ass comments about her shyness. “Come on, you guys don’t have to drink that shitty beer. My VIP guests get the good stuff,” he says as he begins herding us out of the room. I don’t miss the subtle way he places a hand on the small of Annie’s back as we make our way through the crowded house.

* * *

A couple hours later Katniss, Annie and I are all leaning against a counter in Finnick’s huge kitchen, listening to Cato, one of the guys I play football with, recount the story of how two girls just got into a fight in the other room. We are all laughing as he explains how one girl tore the other girl’s flimsy top off and screamed “You’re naked now bitch, what’re you gonna do!” and the other girl proceeded to jump up and continue fighting even with her tits out.

“You should have been there, Mellark! It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…” he finally finishes, with a laughing sigh.

“Nah, I’m good. I prefer girls who act with a little more class than that,” I say, trying to look at Katniss furtively, but she catches me and we both blush and look away.

“Yeah me too,” I hear Finnick say as he approaches us from behind. I eye him skeptically because I’ve never known him to give a damn about how a girl acts- whether or not she puts out has been his only concern as far as I know. He has been suspiciously attentive all night, checking in frequently to see if we need refills on our drinks. Katniss and I have both declined- we’re both actually still nursing our first drink- but he has brought Annie a couple of refills. I’m not sure what to make of this. Finnick doesn’t do the whole courteous and attentive thing with girls. He’s never had to before.

Any thoughts of Finnick flee my mind, however, when I am distracted by Katniss’ breath in my ear as she leans up to whisper, “Will you show me where the bathroom is?”

My heart speeds up and I nod, taking her hand to lead the way. I know where Finnick keeps the key to his parents’ room hidden so that he and his close friends can use their bathroom instead of wait in the long lines for one of the other bathrooms. When we get to the third floor I retrieve the key from the top ledge of a picture near the door to his parents’ bedroom.

I open the door for her and point across the room. “It’s right there,” I say. “I’ll wait out here for you.” But she clearly has other plans because after biting her lip indecisively for just a second she grabs my hand and pulls me into the bedroom with her, closing the door quickly behind us.

We are standing so close that she has to drop her head back to look at me. “Do you think I look alright tonight?” she finally asks, biting her lip again.

“You’re joking, right?” I ask with a nervous laugh. She shakes her head uncertainly so I continue quietly, “Katniss, you are so far beyond ‘alright.’ You are so gorgeous that it’s fucking painful. I’ve had to spend all night actively trying not to think about how hot you look, because otherwise I’m going to really embarrass myself.”

“What do you mean?” she asks innocently.

I laugh at that. “Um, I mean that you are, um, really…” I have to clear my throat because it seems to be closing up on me, “… _turning me on_ tonight,” I murmur, blushing hard.

“Oh!” she says, laughing nervously. She steps closer to me and grabs both of my hands looking up at me with those big gray eyes and my heart starts pounding so hard it almost hurts. “You look really hot, too,” she finally says shyly. “I like seeing you with a bow in your hand.”

One side of her mouth quirks up in a coy grin and my breath escapes me in a gasping sigh. I search her eyes for a few more moments, slowly leaning down towards her so that she has every chance to turn away, every opportunity to tell me she doesn’t want me to kiss her, that she doesn’t like me like that. And she does speak, right when our lips are about to touch so that her breath whispers across my lips. “Kiss me, Peeta.”

So I do, reaching down and letting my lips finally connect with hers. She feels so soft and warm, so much better than I ever could have possibly imagined. I want to stay right here to savor this moment- this exact instant that represents the culmination of 13 years of longing for this girl- but my body has other plans. I press harder, turning my head to seal our lips together more tightly, urging her to open for me. She releases my hands and twines hers around my shoulders and up my neck to sift through the hair at my nape. Finally, she opens to me on a gasp of breath and I take advantage of the opportunity by letting my tongue slip past her lips just a little bit as my arms wrap around her back to pull her closer.  I’m rewarded with a small moan that escapes the back of her throat, and her hands tighten on my neck to pull my mouth more firmly against hers. When I feel the first tentative strokes of her tongue against mine I can’t help myself and I groan into her mouth and let my hands slip down to her ass and press so that her whole body is pushed flush against mine, chest to chest, hip to hip.

She pulls away suddenly, gasping for breath and I curse myself for moving too fast, thinking she must be shocked to feel how hard I am for her after such a brief kiss. “Sorry-” I start to say, but she stops me, pressing her mouth against mine again urgently, our tongues meeting effortlessly this time. I think I might die when I feel her grinding softly against me with her hips, not nearly as hard as I would like, but enough for right now. Any harder and I would probably really embarrass myself by spending in my pants right in front of her.

  1. I am getting too worked up. I have to pull away. “Katniss,” I gasp breaking the kiss and pulling my lower body away from her at the same time. “Wait, we have to stop.”



She seems totally dazed for a second and I can’t help but feel triumphant that I have managed to disorient her so much. “Oh, um okay, is… is everything alright… did, did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, you are perfect. I just… I’ve wanted you for way too long… I’m, ah, a little too… um, _excited_ , right now,” I say.

“Oh!” she exclaims when she finally catches on. She laughs softly and says, “So I guess I did alright then?”

Wow, she must be really innocent if she didn’t realize just how turned on I am and how _alright_ she did. “Yeah, Katniss. You definitely did alright,” and then a thought occurs to me. “Wait, this wasn’t your first kiss, was it?”

She looks down, too shy to meet my eyes as she answers, “ _Technically,_ no. I’ve been kissed before, but not like that. That was definitely my first _intense_ kiss.” After another moment she looks up at me again. “It was the first kiss I’ve had where I really liked the person I was kissing… and where I didn’t want it to stop.”

The smile that her words put on my face could probably light up New York City. Words always come so easily to me, but this girl, she can so easily steel every coherent thought out of my head and render me speechless so effortlessly. So instead of attempting to answer her I just reach out and pull her back to me, holding her close until we both settle down enough to get back to the party.


	8. Teenage Rush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please let me know what you think. I'm plumgal1899 on tumblr.:D

By the time I get back to the high school from my morning classes at ABTech Community College on Monday, fourth period is nearly over. Because of my dual enrollment I only have classes for fifth, sixth and seventh period here, so I usually stay at ABTech’s campus and work on homework and only arrive at the high school in time for fifth period.

I am trying hard not to think about Peeta as I walk to my locker to grab my calculus book. He has occupied my thoughts _a lot_ for the past month, but I’m starting to worry that my preoccupation is reaching an obsessive level ever since Saturday night. I am actively trying not to think about him, but I can’t seem to help it. I know I would have to go way out of my way to see him between classes- our fifth period classes are on opposite ends of the school- but that doesn’t stop me from trying to come up with some excuse to head over there anyway. A month ago I would have looked upon someone acting like this with disdain, but I am so happy that I just don’t care. And I know it sounds super corny, but I haven’t seen Peeta since Saturday night and I _miss_ him. I don’t know how that is possible after only being apart for a day and half, but it’s true.

We texted back and forth all day on Sunday, but his father took a last minute commission for a large cake so Peeta spent all day working on it. He invited me to hang out with him at the bakery, but I had no desire to get him in trouble with his mother again. I really want see him though. I want to see his beautiful smile and the way his eyes light up whenever he sees me. I want to talk to him about what happened Saturday and find out where we are going from here. I want to kiss him again. _I really want to kiss him again._ Just thinking about our few stolen moments in Finnick’s parents’ room- the way his lips felt on mine, our tongues slipping against each other, his hands on my ass pushing me against his body- has me squirming in excitement. _Dammit. I really need to see him soon._

I am practically panting by the time I get to my locker and it has little to do with the fact that I had to climb a set of stairs to get here. Upon opening my locker I am surprised to notice a square of paper fall out of my locker and flutter to the floor. I pick it up, a small smile already stretching my lips because I recognize the heavy paper as that from a sketch pad. Unfolding it, I immediately identify Peeta’s distinctive artistic style. He has drawn a picture of me with cupid’s wings, my bow poised as though I have just let an arrow fly, and him lying on the ground with the arrow protruding from his chest, hearts floating around his head and a goofy, blissful grin on his face. I am pretty certain that the grin currently inhabiting my face matches. I grab my calc. book and slam my locker with determination. _That settles it- I’m going to go find him._

Five minutes later I am standing outside of the classroom that I know Peeta is in for fourth period, fighting the urge to press my face against the narrow glass window to get his attention. Thankfully the bell rings a moment later, before I can be further tempted to make an ass of myself. As the students begin streaming out, I start to second guess myself. What if he is annoyed that I would track him down at school? What if thinks I am being too stalkery?

My stomach drops in that pleasantly swooping way when I see Peeta finally emerge, laughing at something Finnick, who is exiting behind him, has just said. He spots me immediately and the smile he gives me drives any doubt out of my mind. I blush and lift my hand in a small, shy wave as he begins walking toward me with Finnick on his heels.

“Hey,” he says softly, wrapping his arms around my shoulders tightly as soon as he reaches me. Affection comes so easily to him. He must’ve learned it from his father…

“Hey, yourself,” I respond as I slip my arms around his lean waist. He smells so good- like soap and light cologne and something resembling thyme that is distinctly Peeta- that I can’t help myself when I press my face to his chest and breath in deeply.

“What are you doing over here? Isn’t your class in the east wing?” he asks with a knowing smile.

I pull away a little, pretending to be affronted as I tell him, “Well, I just wanted to see you… but if you’re too busy…”

“I don’t think so, Everdeen,” he laughs as he pulls me tight against him again, and sways back lifting me slightly off the ground so that I’m squeezed tight by his arms, which is fine by me.

“Jesus, you two are going to make me sick with all this love dovey shit,” I hear Finnick mutter from somewhere behind Peeta.

“Well I don’t want you to be ill. Maybe you should just go away…” Peeta responds with more than a hint of snark.

Finnick ignores his dig and addresses his next comment at me. “So, uh, Everdeen, where’s your friend Annie?” His attempt to sound casual is pathetic.

“I don’t know, Finnick. It wasn’t my turn to babysit her.” I am not surprised that he is asking about her. He made his interest pretty obvious at the party on Saturday. I don’t really like the idea of him pursuing Annie, however. His track record with women is pretty abysmal. I pull away from Peeta just enough so that I can see him as I address him more seriously. “Look, I don’t think it is such a good idea for you to try talking to Annie. She has been through _a lot_.”

“What do you mean?” he asks with what seems like genuine concern.

“It’s not really my place to spread her business. Just trust me when I say that Annie is not the kind of girl you can just have fun with and then forget about.”

“Who says I want to do that?” he asks defensively.

My only response is a raised eyebrow. I can tell that I have offended him, but I don’t really care. Annie has had enough shit heaped on her for a lifetime and I am not about to let Finnick Odair do anything to hurt her even more. She is already so broken, the slightest bump might shatter her beyond all recognition.

With his usual tact and social grace Peeta steps in to break the tension between us by changing the subject. “So, when do I get to hang out with you again,” he says to me, making it clear that Finnick is dismissed from the conversation. Finnick turns and walks away, his back stiff with irritation. I have to admit that I am surprised to see a chink in the armor of his practiced insouciance.

I turn back to Peeta and my worry over Annie fades to the back of my mind. “Do you want to come over to my house tonight? My mom works second shift and Prim is going to over to Rory’s house to work on a history project,” I say, letting the implication of my words hang in the air.

“Yes!” Peeta says with a surprising amount of enthusiasm, before he can catch himself. He blushes and then continues in a more measured tone, “Yeah that sounds good. Um, what time should I come over?”

“I am staying after school to work in the lab for a bit today. Does six sound okay?”

“Definitely. I have practice till 5:30, but I will come over right after.”

The bell rings and he gives me one last squeeze before we both hurry off toward our classes. I look back over my shoulder as I walk away and catch him doing the same thing. _Dammit! Here comes that goofy ass smile again._

* * *

I wrap up my work in the biology lab at about quarter after five. I want to make sure I have time to get home and pick up my bedroom before Peeta comes over.

The student parking lot is mostly empty as I cut diagonally across the spaces toward my car. I see a sleek silver BMW parked right next to mine, which I recognize as Madge’s car. Damn. I really don’t want to run into her… Peeta told me that she seemed really upset when they broke up and I definitely still feel a little guilty about that. I believe him completely when he says he was planning on breaking up with her anyway, but I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible for it.

As I draw nearer I can see that Madge is actually sitting in her car wearing her cheerleading uniform. Her hands are gripping the steering wheel tightly, her head resting on them and her shoulders shaking noticeably. _Oh no. Is she crying?_ I put my head down and walk more toward the back of her car, hoping that I can climb into mine without her noticing. Unfortunately, the heavy door of my old rust bucket of a car is impossible to open quietly and Madge looks up in surprise the second I start to open it with a loud creak.

We make eye contact and she begins wiping at her eyes and cheeks frantically. There is no possible way I can pretend I don’t see her now. Sighing I set my shoulder bag down on the seat of my car and close the door, turning back toward Madge’s car.

I knock twice on the passenger side window and she rolls it down using a button on the armrest. “Oh, hey Katniss,” she says in a failed attempt to sound casual. “What’s up?”

“Um, is, ah, everything alright, Madge?” I ask awkwardly.

For a moment I think I’ll be saved from the continuation of this awkward situation as she succeeds momentarily at a brittle smile. It only lasts briefly, however, before her lip quivers and her entire face crumbles as she begins to cry again. _Fuck._ I really don’t know what I am even doing as I open her car door and climb inside. I guess I just can’t bring myself to turn my back on her when she is clearly so distraught.

I just sit awkwardly for a few moments as she struggles to regain control of herself, gulping down loud sobs. When it appears as though the worst of it has passed and is subsiding into hiccups I venture to ask, “Do you want to talk about it?” When she just shakes her head silently I press on, “Is this about Peeta?”

She looks up at me, confused for a moment before she begins to speak, “No. Sort of but not really…” She trails off as she struggles to regain some semblance of composure.

I should have just gotten into my car and went home. If I had just pretended I didn’t notice her I could be at home right now waiting for Peeta. As it stands it is 5:30, Peeta is getting out of practice right now and I am stuck here with a distraught Madge Undersee, with absolutely no idea what to do next.

I am saved from developing a response when Madge surprises me by continuing quietly, “Katniss, if I tell you something will you promise not to speak a word of it to anybody?”

“Um, yeah… sure, but…” I just trail off because I have no idea why Madge, who is without doubt the most popular girl in school, would need to confide in _me_.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts out unexpectedly. I can literally feel the color drain from my face as I stare at her in total shock, a sickening weight settling in my stomach.

I don’t respond as my mind races for several moments processing the implications of Peeta’s ex-girlfriend being pregnant. I am growing more panicked with each second that passes. Madge keeps her eyes straight ahead, intentionally not meeting my intent stare. I finally bring myself to squeak out in a small voice, “How far along are you?”

“Almost four months,” she responds softly, tears coursing down her face again, silently this time.

“Four months? So you and Peeta were… were, um, _together…_ that long ago?” I ask, having difficulty even getting the words out.

“Peeta!?” she asks clearly confused. I see the moment when she realizes the conclusion I have drawn and rushes on, “Oh my god! No, it’s not Peeta! He and I were never together like that.” My breath whooshes out of my chest in a gasp of relief and my heart begins to pound hard. _Holy shit. Thank god._

For a moment I am so absorbed in my thankfulness that my maybe-soon-to-be-boyfriend is not about to become a father, that it takes me a second to put together the pieces of what Madge’s revelation implies. “Wait, you and Peeta just started dating in September…” I trail off, failing to hide the judgment and accusation in my voice.

Madge just ducks her head down, clearly ashamed, but not willing to deny what we both know to be true. She started dating Peeta _because_ she was pregnant. _What the fuck?_

Her ugly sobs begin again. “ _Please don’t tell Peeta! Please, Katniss._ I am so ashamed of myself for that, and I just couldn’t bear for anybody to know. _Especially Peeta._ He is probably the best person I know and I was so desperate… I can’t tell my father… I just can’t. And all of my friends… Everybody is going to _hate_ me and I just thought that maybe if it was Peeta… Everybody loves Peeta, _especially_ my dad. I just thought if it _was_ Peeta, maybe I could keep this baby and maybe everything would work out somehow… And I was just _so desperate-”_ She can’t continue as her voice is choked by tears.

“Who _is_ the father, Madge?”

She looks at me with panic in her eyes and just shakes her head frantically. Clearly I have crossed the line of what she is willing to talk about. She suddenly starts her car and says in a rush, “I’m really sorry to unload all of this on you, Katniss. I just, I haven’t told _anybody_ and I had to tell _somebody_. Please promise me you won’t tell anybody.”

She reaches across my lap and rather rudely opens my door indicating that I need to get out. “Madge-” I begin, but she cuts me off before I can continue.

“I really have to go, Katniss. I’m sorry. Do you promise not to tell? _Please._ ” She looks so desperate that I find myself nodding and stumbling hastily out of her car as she puts it into drive. “I’m so _so_ , sorry, about this. Please just forget about it. Just forget I told you any of this.” And before I can even close the door all the way she is already backing out of the parking space.

I stand next to my car, totally bewildered, as I watch her drive away. _What the hell just happened here?_

* * *

My mind is still racing from my encounter with Madge when I arrive home. Part of me feels compassion for her- I couldn’t even imagine being in her situation- but I have to admit that primarily I feel angry that she even considered pinning this on Peeta and relieved that it didn’t work out that way. Just think, if Gale had never dragged me to that football game and party five weeks ago, the catalyst for Peeta’s and my relationship would have never been triggered. He might still be with Madge now, thinking he is going to be a dad! Just considering this possibility makes me sick to my stomach.

I make a concerted effort to push these thoughts out of my mind as I rush up to my bedroom to hastily make my bed and pick up any clothes that I have left lying around and throw them into my closet. Next I dash into the bathroom to brush my teeth, reapply some deodorant, and brush and rebraid my hair. I hear the doorbell downstairs just as I am finishing.

I am practically breathless with excitement as I wrench open the door and see Peeta standing there, looking irresistible with his hair still wet and tousled from his shower after practice. Who is this giddy, ridiculous girl that he has turned me into?

He steps inside as I hold the as I hold the door open for him and asks, “So are you really the only one home right now?”

I nod silently closing the door. As I turn around I am faced with his broad chest as he crowds his body around mine. “Good,” he mutters moving so fast I don’t even realize what has happened when I find myself pressed up against the door by his body. His hands grip my hips tightly as his lips swoop down to capture mine in a hard kiss. I open my lips eagerly to allow his tongue passage and wrap my arms around his shoulders standing on my tip toes so that I can press my lips to his even more firmly. I push my fingers into his wet curls and scratch his scalp softly, which causes him to groan in the back of his throat. My stomach clenches hard at his soft noise and I am totally unsurprised to feel wetness spreading between my legs and soaking my panties. The number of dreams and fantasies I’ve had about Peeta over the past month have been enough to familiarize myself with this particular effect that he has on my body. I know that he has the same reaction to me because I can already feel his hardness pressed against my belly. It excites me in a way I could have never anticipated five weeks ago.

I’m not sure how long we stand there exploring each other’s mouths with our bodies pressed tightly against each other, but the necessity to breathe finally causes us to separate, gasping. I love the feeling of his hot breath whispering across my wet lips almost as much as I love how he tastes as his tongue slips against mine.

“Sorry,” he finally mutters sheepishly, stepping back so I can move away from the door. He looks so hot with his hair even more mussed from my fingers, his cheeks flushed with excitement.

I laugh softly as I grab his hand and pull him towards the stairs, “It’s okay. It’s _really_ okay.”

When we get to my room we both stand awkwardly for a second. Peeta doesn’t seem sure if he should sit on the bed or not, and I am suddenly worried that coming up here might have been a mistake. I don’t want to move too fast, but now I am afraid I might have given him the impression that things are going to go farther than I want them to by inviting him over here when no one else is home. Peeta walks around my room for a second looking at some of my pictures and books before he finally sits down on the bed. I, coward that I am, turn my desk chair to face him and sit there.

We sit in silence for a second before Peeta clears his throat and says, “So I actually have some good news. You’ll be really happy when you hear it… I was going to tell you on Saturday actually, but… I guess I was preoccupied,” he says with a grin and I can’t help but remember the way he looked at me when I was wearing the Black Widow costume. The memory causes me to squirm in my seat.

“What is it?” I ask, noting that my voice is unnaturally high.

“Well I was talking to Portia on Friday morning and she, um, sort of convinced me that I should maybe at least try to apply for culinary schools,” he is blushing and looking down as though he is nervous to tell me.

“Peeta! Oh my god, that’s amazing!” I shout and practically launch myself at him, capturing him in a tight hug that pushes him back on the bed.

He laughs and says, “I knew that would make you happy.”

“So did you talk to your mom? Is she cool with it?” I ask enthusiastically, sitting up next to him while he remains lying down.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I haven’t told her. I am planning on applying for scholarships which I will definitely need. _So don’t get too excited yet.”_

“I can be excited if I want to,” I tell him smugly. I bravely reach out and brush a lock of hair back that has fallen across his brow. “I am sure you can do this, Peeta. And I just went through the whole scholarship application thing so I can help!”

A slow smile spreads across his lips as he says, “You’re pretty amazing. You know that?” My only response is to continue staring at him with a smile of my own.

Neither of us speaks for a while as we just gaze at each other. I find myself fascinated by his eyelashes, which I’ve never noticed before because they are so light and the blueness of his eyes always seems to absorb my total attention. But now that I have time to actually look at him closely I can see that they are so long it seems like they should get tangled up when he blinks. He closes his eyes as I bring my hand to them and trace an index finger softly over his lashes and then down the bridge of his nose.

“Peeta?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it okay if we don’t… um, you know, do _everything_ … right away, I mean,” I stutter out awkwardly.

His eyes pop open and try to fix on mine, but I keep my gaze averted. “Hey,” he says, reaching a hand up to cup the side of my face and force me to look at him. “We don’t have to do _anything_ , Katniss. I’m happy just to be here with you at all. I didn’t come over here today with any expectations.”

“Really?” I ask.

“Really,” he states firmly.

“Well, I mean… I would like to do _some things_ ,” I say, blushing hard. “I’ve just never, like-” why is this so hard for me to say? I’m going to be a scientist for god’s sake. “I’ve never had sex,” I finally blurt out.

“Katniss, _neither have I!”_ he tells me emphatically.

“You haven’t? How is that possible? Every girl in school wants you,” I say incredulously.

“Well, _you see_ , for the past thirteen years I’ve been kinda hung up on this one girl… but she never gave me the time of day…” His words bring the smile back to my face and I don’t even hesitate as I lean down to kiss him, stretching my body out against the length of his.

His arms come up around me and tangle in my hair as our tongues meet effortlessly. My hands are trapped between us, clutching desperately at his shirt. I am astonished by how little time passes in this manner before I feel him growing hard again. I wiggle against him a little and he groans and rolls so that I am trapped beneath him without even breaking the kiss. I could really get used to this, feeling his weight on top of me, his hardness pressed to my center. My thoughts are completely consumed by him as I break away from the kiss and begin pulling at his shirt and pressing my pelvis upward simultaneously. I want to feel his skin and I _need_ to feel his pressure against the ache between my legs that is approaching pain. I have relieved myself so many times by imagining him here with me like this, that now I am almost frantic with the need to have him _actually_ do it for me.

He helps me by leaning up and pulling his shirt over his head himself. As soon as it is tossed aside I wrap my arms around his back, reveling in the feeling of the smooth skin stretched over taut muscle. I am so lost in this moment that I feel absolutely no shame as I begin bucking up wildly, pressing hard against his erection. He groans so loudly that I am actually startled for a second, but that is forgotten a moment later as he captures my mouth again presses his hips into me in a slow push. Now it is my turn to groan, which is muffled into his mouth. I’m not sure if this is heaven or hell. Feeling him hard against me feels so good, but at the same time I am hyper aware that this will not put the pressure on my clit that I need for release. I just go with it though, finding his rhythm and bringing my hips up to press against him every time he presses downward.

I am panting hard when he pulls his mouth away from mine again. He leans back on his knees and pulls me up with him, as though I way nothing, so that he can pull my T-shirt over my head, leaving my top half naked except for my bra. We both drop back to the bed as soon as this is accomplished. This time as he resumes his pushing rhythm against me I have the added stimuli of feeling his skin on my skin, both from where are stomachs meet and from his palm running softly over my shoulders, stomach, breasts- anywhere he can reach without interrupting our movements below.

I am startled again when he gasps suddenly and pulls away from me so that our lower halves are separated. “Katniss,” he breaths, “I can’t do that anymore. I’m gonna come if I don’t stop.” I want to cry in frustration for a moment before he continues, “Is it okay if I touch you? If I use my hand on you?”

“Yes!” I nearly shout, much more emphatic than I intended. He actually has the nerve to flash a cocky smile in response to my desperation. I think vaguely that I should be irritated by this, but it makes him look so hot that my only actual response is another rush of moisture down below.

He wastes no time as he moves to the side so that he is lying next to me, no longer between my legs, and begins unfastening my pants. With his new position I can see everything he is doing and it just causes my excitement to escalate even more. Once my jeans are undone he pulls them down to the tops of my thighs and cups my sex over my panties. Under normal circumstances I would be mortified by this, but I am too far gone to care right now.

He groans, leaning his head right next to mine so that his mouth grazes my ear as he says, “Oh, fuck, Katniss. You’re so wet.” His words shock me. I knew that he would feel it, but I didn’t expect him to comment on it. Even more surprising than his words is my reaction to them. I _liked_ hearing him whisper that into my ear. The only response I can formulate is to gasp his name desperately and buck up into his cupped hand.

He moves his hand upward toward the waistband of my panties, but not without pressing his middle finger down hard on the cleft visible through my underwear as he goes. I can’t stop myself from crying out loudly. All coherent thought flees my mind as he finally pushes his hand into my panties and sifts his fingers through my short curls. He moves his index and middle finger into the folds below, missing my clit, which causes me to squirm with impatience. When he pulls his fingers back upward his middle finger drags directly across it, causing me to give some garbled mix between a cry and a moan. He knows now that he has found the right spot and he begins rubbing his fingers there, adjusting his speed and pressure as he looks back and forth between my face and his hand. I realize on some level that he is trying to figure out what I like, gauging each different response I make.

I watch him work on me for as long as I can before the pleasure becomes too much and I have to squeeze my eyes shut against the release that I know is coming. He must understand what is about to happen because he presses down hard on my clit and begins circling his fingers faster. That is all it takes and I am totally lost, my whole body tensing, a low keening resonating in my throat as a final rush of moisture escapes my body, soaking my already wet panties and the jeans that have been pull partially down. As my body continues to hum with pleasure I vaguely realize that Peeta is running his fingers lower against me, through the moisture released with my orgasm.

Every muscle in my body is limp and relaxed as I finally start to return to myself. I open my eyes to find that he is staring at me intently. “Are you okay?” he asks, but he doesn’t actually sound too concerned. It think it is pretty obvious that I am better than okay.

A slow lazy smile spreads across my face and I nod my head slowly. That orgasm was much more intense than the few I have managed to give myself, and I can’t even muster the energy to respond. He pulls his hand away from me and jerks my pants back to my waist, but doesn’t refasten them. He nudges me gently so that I roll to my side facing away from him and stretches out behind me spoon fashion.

I can feel his erection against my ass and somehow manage to look over my shoulder at him. “What about you?” I murmur sleepily.

He leans up and whispers in my ear, “I’ll be alright.” I don’t remember anything after that as he pulls me tight against him nuzzles his face in my neck and I drift effortlessly off to sleep.


	9. I Know There's Somethin' I Needed to Say

I’m not proud of myself right now.

Well, I guess in one respect, I’m _very_ proud of myself right now. I mean, I just gave Katniss Everdeen- _the girl of my dreams-_ an orgasm.

What I’m not proud of is what I just did in her bathroom...

I really couldn’t help it, though. I’m only human. And I had lain there for thirty minutes-holding her while she slept, listening to her soft breathing, smelling the sweetness of her hair and skin mixed with the tang of her arousal, remembering how sexy and beautiful she looked at the moment of her release, remembering how hot and slick and wet she felt… There is no way, under those conditions, that my body was going to accept that it wouldn’t be receiving any relief today. I finally decided I had to take matters into my own hands… Pun intended.

When I get back to her room I am surprised to see that she is sitting up in bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “There you are,” she says, her voice betraying just a little petulance.

I have to grin at the cute little pout that she can’t quite hide. “Here I am. I just went to the restroom,” I say sheepishly, unable to keep from blushing.

“I was worried you left,” she murmurs quietly. “You were gone for a while.”

At her last words my blush becomes so intense I’m pretty sure my face could light the night sky. I try to speak but end up just opening and closing my mouth wordlessly. If only she knew… For what I accomplished in there, I was actually ridiculously quick.

I stand by her bed uncomfortably, unsure of how to break the awkward moment until I see understanding dawn on her face. “Oh…” she says quietly, lifting her eyebrows. _“Peeta!”_ she cries suddenly.

“Katniss, I’m so sorry, but-“ I begin, but stop abruptly because she rises on her knees quickly, kneeling on the bed directly in front of where I am standing so that we are face to face.

She places her hands on both sides of my face gently and says, “You didn’t have to do that. I mean… I would’ve…” she trails off but keeps her eyes on mine and we just stare at each other. It takes me a moment to process the fact that she’s not put-off by what I’ve done, just irked that I didn’t let her do it for me.

I don’t know how to respond because, obviously I want to accept what she is offering, but I don’t want her to feel obligated. When I don’t say anything she goes on, her voice now riddled with an uncertainty I’m not used to hearing from her. “Unless, you don’t want me like that-“

“What!?” Now it’s my turn to cut her off. “You can’t possibly think that, Katniss,” I say insistently, wrapping my hands around her wrists, which are still up by my face. “I mean, I _want_ you to do that stuff. I just didn’t want you to think that I _expect_ it. You’d probably be totally freaked out if you could see inside my head… all the stuff I want to do with you.”

She glances down, a coy smile spreading across her face. “I want those things, too. Maybe not _all_ of them right away, but… I want to make you feel the way you made me feel.” When she glances back up at me and meets my eyes with hers- liquid silver and full of heat- I think my heart might stutter to a stop.

“Okay. I’m going to hold you to that next time,” I murmur, my lips already touching hers to initiate a gentle kiss. After a moment I break the kiss before it has the opportunity to become too heated and I slip my arms around her back, which is still bare except for her bra since she has not re-donned the shirt that I removed earlier. She wraps her arms tightly around my shoulders so that they cradle my head and tucks her face beside mine so that her breath whispers across my ear and neck every time she exhales.

“Peeta?” she says after a minute, her voice muffled into my skin.

“Yeah?”

“I was just wondering, um… what we are now…”

“What we are? You mean, like, to each other?” I pull back so that I can see her face. She nods her head silently so I continue. “Well, I think you know what I want: the same thing I’ve wanted _basically forever.”_

She doesn’t quite meet my eyes as she mutters, “But you’ve never actually said it…”

“I’ve _never_ _actually said_ _it_ because I’ve been terrified that I’ll scare you away…”

Now she has an adorably playful grin on her face. “Well, you’ll never know if you never ask…”

“Fine.” I remove one hand from her back so that I can grip her chin and pull her elusive gaze to mine. If she is going to make me expose my vulnerability then I am damn well going to make her meet it head on with me.  “Katniss, will you be my girlfriend?” I say firmly once our eyes are locked on each other.

She nods and tries to look away again but I won’t let her, keeping my hand on her chin. “ _I’ll never know if you never answer…”_ I say mocking her words from a moment ago.

“Yes! Fine, Jesus…” she says, playfully pushing me away and laughing. But I have no intention of letting her escape, so I wrap both of my arms around her again before she has the opportunity to retreat. I hug her tightly and our lips meet a second later in a hard kiss. Just as I think that maybe I should let things escalate so that I can take her up on her offer from earlier, she breaks the kiss abruptly.

“What is it?” I ask.

She doesn’t respond right away, just holds still, listening. After another minute she says, “Damn. Prim’s home.”

I look at her like she’s crazy for a second because I don’t hear anything, but sure enough, maybe thirty seconds later I hear the door open and close downstairs- I should know better than doubt her hunter’s senses. Prim’s gentle voice carries up the stairs as she calls, “Katniss? Are you home?”

“Yeah, Prim, I’m here! I’ll be right down.”

“Is that Peeta’s car outside?” Prim calls up again.

“Um, yeah! We were just working on some homework for class.” She scowls at me when I laugh at this-Prim knows we don’t have any classes together- and hops off the bed looking for her shirt. She grabs it and walks into her small closet. When she emerges a moment later she is wearing the same shirt but has replaced her jeans (and presumably her panties) with a pair of black yoga pants.

Katniss has to stop off in the bathroom so I precede her downstairs and start making small talk with Prim about the project she was working on over at Rory’s house as she digs through the fridge looking for something to make for dinner. When Katniss enters the kitchen she gently nudges Prim out of the way, “It’s okay, Prim. I can make dinner.”

“No it’s fine, Katniss. I can do it so that you and Peeta can finish your _homework,”_ Prim says with a knowing smile.

Katniss clears her throat uncomfortably and returns, “We’re all done actually. We were just finishing when you got home.”

“Really? That’s interesting… How could you have been finishing your homework _upstairs_ when your school bag, with all of your _school stuff_ , is _down here_?” she says with feigned innocence, pointing to where Katniss’ bag sits on the small kitchen table.

I laugh, Katniss blushes, and Prim just prances out of the room with a grin on her face. I can tell by the way Katniss has her brow furrowed and her lips pinched between her teeth as she turns back to the fridge that she doesn’t like the idea of Prim knowing we were fooling around.

I sneak up to her and hug her from behind. “Hey,” I murmur into her ear, “its okay.”

She sighs and says, “No, it’s not, Peeta. I want to set a good example. I don’t want my baby sister to think that it’s okay to hook up with some guy because she saw me doing it.”

“‘Some guy?’ Am I ‘ _some guy’_? I mean yeah, if I’m ‘some guy’ than I guess this looks bad… But, if I recall correctly, I’m pretty sure that I’m your boyfriend now. In which case, I don’t think anything we do would qualify as a ‘hook up,’ and I think Prim is mature enough to know the difference.”

She turns around in my arms and leans up to hug me and place a gentle kiss on my lips. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant… and you’re right. There is nothing wrong with us wanting to be together and she’ll know that. I’m just so used to protecting her, you know.”

“I know. It’s one of the things that makes you so awesome.”

She snorts and shakes her head pushing me away gently. “You know, I’m not so sure about that whole _boyfriend_ thing,” she says, grinning. “I didn’t realize you were so corny when I agreed to that.”

I raise my eyebrows at her and call out toward the living room, “Hey, Prim. Do you want to hear about what Katniss and I learned from our homework assignment…”

“ _Peeta!!”_ she screeches, lunging at me and pressing a hand over my laughing mouth.

* * *

 

“I gotta tell you, Finn, I had no idea you were so needy,” I say as I climb into his car. He showed up at my house an hour ago and proceeded to badger me until I agreed to go with him to get food. The hours of homework I have yet to do tonight are apparently not a good enough reason for me not to go.

“Hey, don’t get pissy with me; I’m doing you a favor. You’ve spent the entire time you’ve been dating Everdeen with your head up her ass. That’s not healthy, man. You need some time with the guys.”

“What? You’re so full of shit. You don’t exactly qualify as ‘the guys.’ Not to mention that Katniss and I have only hung out like twice all week and-”

 “Yeah, yeah, I know, whatever,” he cuts me off before I can remind him how _he_ actually crashed one of the only two dates Katniss and I have had.  “So! Speaking of where you’ve had your head- has it been anywhere _other_ than up her ass?” He asks glancing away from the road to waggle his eyebrows at me. “Unless we’re talking about your _other_ head… in which case, up her ass is a totally acceptable option-“

“ _Fuck, Finnick!_ Shut up! That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about, not one of the trashy slags you hook up with.”

“Jesus, don’t get your panties in a twist. Guys are supposed to talk about this shit. Spill it, Mellark, have you gotten on it yet?”

“Why are you being such a dick?”

“I’m not!” he says, laughing. “But one of us needs to look out for ‘Peeta’s little baguette.’”

I roll my eyes at his lame joke. “I don’t need you to look out for anything. Katniss and I are doing just fine in that department without your interference.” In truth, we haven’t actually had any opportunity in that department since the first night when I asked her out, but I’m not about to tell Finnick that.

“Fine, I’ll let it go. You’ve basically answered my question anyway- you wouldn’t be this fucking uptight if you were actually getting laid,” he mutters as he pulls the car into the lot of Capitol Diner, a small establishment on the edge of town.

“What are we doing here?” I ask. Finnick isn’t known for his affinity to little greasy-spoon diners. I can’t imagine why he would ever willingly choose this place.

“We’re eating here, what do you think?” he says, attempting to sound nonchalant as he gets out of the car. I eye him skeptically as he holds the door for me to step through. “What? This place is good,” he mutters defensively.

Finnick leads the way to a booth at the far end of the diner and his sudden interest in this place becomes clear. Annie Cresta is standing at the table right next to the booth Finnick has chosen, taking the order of the elderly couple seated there.

“Goddammit, Finn! Have you seriously dragged me along so that you can stalk out Katniss’ friend?” I hiss at him under my breath.

He’s saved from having to answer because Annie turns from the table she was waiting on and spots us. Walking up she gives us a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, “Hey, guys!” her voice is falsely bright and she directs her next comment at Finnick. “You must really like the food here… third time this week…”

I widen my eyes at Finnick, trying to get his attention so that he can see how pissed I am about this. He doesn’t even acknowledge me, as he flashes Annie the smile that has proven so successful with ladies in the past. “Best food in town… prettiest waitresses too,” he says, offering her a subtle wink that, coming from anyone else would be eye roll inducing, but that girls swoon over coming from him. Annie, however, doesn’t see it because she is very pointedly avoiding looking directly at him.

“Um, what can I get you guys to drink?” she asks looking uncomfortable.

“Coffee, please,” I tell her.

But Finnick pretends to peruse the little cardboard stand on the table with the beverage options. “Hmm, I don’t know.” He mulls it over long enough that we are both staring at him expectantly before he looks up quickly so that Annie is basically tricked into meeting his eye. He gives her the full mega-watt version of his smile and says, “You’re the expert here, Annie. What do you recommend?”  

“Uh, well um, the sweet tea is pretty good,” she mutters, blushing and looking down to hide her small smile.

“Did _you_ make it?” he asks, using a smooth voice that would break a lesser woman. When she shakes her head in the negative he continues, “Well, that’s too bad… but I guess I’ll have it anyway.”

I kick him under the table as soon as she leaves. “I can’t believe you brought me here so you could hit on her!” I whisper furiously. “Have you just been coming in here to harass her all week?”

“I’m not harassing her!” he whispers back. “I just… I don’t know… I just wanted to see her. And I don’t want her to think I’m a creep by continuing to come in here by myself, so I brought you. You’re like a Labrador retriever when it comes to girls- they all seem to instinctively trust you. Seeing _me_ with _you_ will make _me_ seem better… Not to mention you’re dating her only friend in this town.”

“Look, man, Katniss has never told me exactly what Annie’s deal is, but I get the impression that she has had to endure some really fucked up shit. Why can’t you just let this one go and find some other girl to go after.”

He sighs loudly. “I know I’ve been a dick in the past, but… I can’t explain it man… something about Annie is… just different. I literally can’t stop thinking about her. It’s like, I don’t know. When she looks at me it’s like she _sees_ me, you know?” Wow. A rare glimpse of the real Finnick. The Finnick that only I would recognize… and apparently maybe Annie.

I don’t have a chance to answer as Annie comes back with our drinks. “So, um, Annie,” I say as she sets our drinks down in front of us, “Finnick was thinking about having a few people over this weekend. Not a big party or anything, just like me and Katniss and you and a few other people just to, like, swim and play pool and stuff. Real low key, you know. What do you think?”

“Katniss is going?” she asks uncertainly.

I nod my head, hoping I have a chance to text Katniss before she does. I just came up with this idea on the spot. I don’t even know for sure if Finnick’s parents will be gone this weekend. “Yeah, Katniss will be there, for sure,” I say, hoping it’s not a lie.

“Um, okay then,” she says in her shy little voice, “that sounds like fun.”

As soon as she walks away again Finnick reaches across the table and shakes my shoulder vigorously. “Ah! See, this is why I need you. She would have never said yes to me! I owe you big time, man!”

“Yeah, you do. Are your parents even going to be gone this weekend?”

“Of course,” he says, rolling his eyes and trying to sound blasé about it.

“Of course,” I mutter in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I would love to hear from you :D I'm plumgal1899 on tumblr.


	10. Somebody Told Me

His lips are perfect. Full, but not too full. Soft, but not too soft. In fact, everything about his mouth is perfect. The way it feels warm and slippery, but not sloppy or too wet. The way it tastes sweet, but also kind of spicy, like ginger ale. The way he uses it… I could happily just go on kissing him forever if it wasn’t for the fact that every time I kiss him, a desperate clawing hunger surfaces within me, causing me to always want to push for more. And in the almost two weeks since he officially became my boyfriend, we have had no opportunity for more. That is probably why we are attacking each other with such gusto right now- it is the first time we have actually been alone for more than a few minutes in that entire time.

We need to stop, though. I know we need to… but I just can’t seem to make myself. My current position just feels way too good, straddling his lap on the living room couch, rocking against his erection which is pressed against me intimately as we assault each other’s mouths desperately. I can’t stop my loud groan when I feel his hands slide down from their position on my lower back, onto my ass to simultaneously flex into the flesh there and pull me forward so that I am pressing into him even harder. God, I want him so bad. I want so much more than I should want this soon into our relationship, but I can’t help it. I place the blame totally on Peeta’s shoulders. It’s his fault for being so cute, and charming, and talented, and funny, and smart, and kindhearted, and… okay I can admit it… _so damn hot!_

I’m gasping for breath, bucking against his hardness wildly, by the time he pulls his mouth away from mine to slide his lips down my jaw, licking and kissing the skin of my neck with his descent, his hands sliding up underneath my shirt to caress the skin of my back. I know I should take this opportunity to reign in the situation, so I make a half-hearted attempt, not even bothering to stop my gyrations as I pant into his ear, “Peeta, we should stop.”

“Nuh uh,” he mumbles, the sound muffled into the sensitive skin where my jaw meets my throat.

I can’t help but laugh a little at his petulant tone. “My mom is going to be home any minute.”

“We’ll hear her pull up,” he counters, bringing his lips back to mine and claiming my mouth in another kiss.

I let this go for a few moments before I pull away and pant, “No really, we have to stop.” It takes every ounce of will I have, but I finally stop grinding against him and settle my lower half farther down his legs so that my butt is resting almost between his spread knees.

He just leans up and tries to take my mouth again, but I duck my head away, evading him and laughing I say, “ _Peeta!_ Seriously, we _have_ to stop. Do you honestly want to meet my mom with a raging hard-on?”

He collapses against the back of the couch, huffing out a breath and deflating as he says, “Dammit, why is this so hard?” I giggle and he gives me a reproachful look as he continues, “Not why is _that_ so hard,” he murmurs looking down at himself. “ _That_ I know. I mean, why is it so hard for us to get some time alone together?”

“Well, let’s see… Between your football and student council and work and your needy best friend-,” I am still a little peeved that Finnick crashed one of our dates last week hoping to get a chance to hang out with Annie. “And my dual enrollment and mentoring program and _my_ needy _family_ … I’m sorry, I know it’s hard for you. It’s hard for me too. You’re not the only one frustrated here,” I say waving my finger between us.

“It’s different for girls, though,” he says. He looks adorable when he pouts.

I plant a brief, chaste kiss to his lips and say, “I tell you what. If we knock out your scholarship applications- which, _need I remind you_ , is the reason you came over- and then you make it through dinner with my mom and Prim and the Hawthornes, I promise I will make it up to you tonight when we go to Finnick’s.” I give him what I hope is a seductive smile.

It must do the trick because he sighs in defeat and responds, “I’m going to hold you to that, Everdeen.” He flashes me his sexiest smile, and for a moment I consider saying ‘to hell with it’ and leading him up to my room.

But instead, like the good girl I am, I climb off of his lap and stand-up to lead the way out to the kitchen table where he left his book bag and I left my laptop. I hold my hand out to help him up, but he just shakes his head briefly and, looking down at himself again, says, “I think I’ll just stay here until I get this situation under control. I’ll meet you out there in a minute.”

I chuckle a little as I head toward the dining room, calling over my shoulder, “Just like, think about clubbing baby seals, or sticking your face in hot garbage. That’s how you make it go away, right?”

“There is something wrong with you, Everdeen!” he calls from the other room and I just laugh again and begin booting up my laptop.

When he joins me a few minutes later he still looks adorably surly, but otherwise okay. I finish checking my email and then launch into full-force Katniss-the-overachiever mode. “Okay, so did you print out the instructions for the scholarships you think you might be eligible for?” I ask.

He nods and pulls a manila folder out of his bag and starts shifting through the papers. “Which ones did you apply for, by the way?”

“Um, mine were almost all science oriented ones. Other than the standard ones based on state test scores I don’t think we will be applying for any of the same scholarships. Why? Are you afraid we will be competing?” I ask giving him a knowing smile.

“No. Well, yeah, I guess. I just don’t want to apply for any that you are applying for,” he says, blushing and glancing away.

“Peeta, you should apply for _any_ that you think you might get. Don’t worry about competing with me.”

“I just, I know how much you are relying on scholarships to go to school. If I don’t apply for the same ones, well than that is just one less person for you to beat out. Right?” he reaches over and squeezes my knee affectionately. He is so sweet; I literally don’t know how I got so lucky.

“Well, it is a good thing we will not be in competition for any of these then,” I say holding my hand out for the stack he pulled from the manila envelope. “The state scholarships are awarded to everyone who qualifies, so we are not competing for those, and other than that, I don’t think you would be going for any of the same ones as me.” I set the stack next to my computer and begin typing in the web address for the one on the top. “Besides, I can’t even apply for the biggest one yet, and that is the main one I am counting on.”

“Which one is that?” Peeta asks.

“The ‘Leaders of Tomorrow Award,’” I tell him, blushing slightly. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but I am being considered for valedictorian and that one is awarded to only valedictorians. It is a big one. I actually am _really_ counting on it because UNC-Chapel Hill is so expensive…”

“You are up for valedictorian?” Peeta’s voice seems unnatural, like he is deliberately trying to sound casual.

“Yeah, I know I shouldn’t even be saying anything. That is why I joined the Meadowglen Mentors program. Ms. Trinket thought having some extra curriculars would increase my chances. But whatever, we will see what happens, right.” I don’t expect him to fall for the false lightness I am trying to imbue my words with. I _have_ to get valedictorian if I even stand a chance of paying for Chapel Hill.

When I look up at Peeta he seems anxious all of a sudden, but I’m not sure why. Maybe he’s just concerned about the uncertainty of my future. That seems like something he would do…

I don’t have the chance to ask him what’s up, though, because at that moment we are interrupted by my mom and Prim who are bustling into the house with bags of groceries. Both Peeta and I jump up to help and are waved off as they make their way to the island in the center of the small kitchen.

As I glance back over at Peeta, I see him quickly stuffing a piece of paper into his book bag. I look at him questioningly and ask, “What was that?”

“Oh, just a recipe I typed up earlier… for my portfolio… I, um, just remembered that I put it in that folder. I didn’t want to forget it.” Something seems suspicious about his behavior, but I can’t guess what it would be and now is not the time to ask. I have to get through the whole mom-meeting-my-boyfriend-for-the-first-time thing.

As it turns out, I have nothing to be worried about. Of course Peeta would charm my mom just like he does everyone else, myself included. Seeing him talk to my mom and Prim, joking easily and laughing with them, I am so proud that he is mine. It’s like, the fact that I am socially awkward is somehow made up for by the fact that this incredibly likeable and charismatic person has _actually_ chosen me.

Part of me wishes I could tell my mom that it was Peeta who brought that cake for Prim’s eighth birthday. I want her to know that he is so much more than just a charming young man. I want her to know that he is the person who saved us. But I know Peeta wouldn’t want me to bring that up. He and I don’t even talk about it. We both just know… and that’s enough.

Pretty soon my mom refuses Peeta’s offer to help with dinner and waves us back over to continue working on his scholarship applications. We only get through two of them by the time Hazel and the rest of the Hawthornes begin arriving for our usual Saturday night dinner. My stomach drops a little as I see Gale step through the door. I know that he knows Peeta from having gone to the same school for so many years, but he has never known him as my boyfriend. I’m not sure exactly how Gale will be towards Peeta. As far as I know, Gale has only had genuine feelings for two girls in his lifetime: me and Madge. And Peeta has now dated both of us…

Thankfully, their interaction doesn’t really extend beyond the cold broy kind of hand shake that guys do when they want to seem tough and aloof, but also like they are the bigger person. I breathe a sigh of relief and just hope that they will just make a point to avoid each other.

When we all finally sit down to eat I practically inhale my food and jump up to get a head start on the dishes so that my mom can have no reasonable objection when I pull Peeta out of here at the first possible opportunity. Not only do I want to escape the uncomfortable situation of having Peeta and Gale under the same roof, but I am becoming more and more anxious for the possibility of spending some alone time with my boyfriend. The longer this dinner stretches out, the more I feel like a bow strung too tight and ready to fire.

I have just gotten all of the dishes stacked and begun washing when Gale steps up beside me to begin rinsing. He launches right in by asking quietly, “So this thing with you and Mellark, is it serious?”

I pause to look him right in the eye as I say, “Yes, it is.” I figure if Gale is going to make an issue out of this, it is best to get everything out in the open all at once.

He sighs deeply, looking down for a long time before he finally glances up to meet my eyes again. “It’s weird. I honestly thought I would feel so much worse when the day came that you definitively chose someone else over me. Maybe I finally am over you, Catnip.”

I release the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. “Good. We are way too similar. We’d kill each other in a week if we ever tried to be more than friends, Gale.”

He chuckles softly and says, “I think you’re probably right about that.” After a long pause he continues, “And hey, I guess I can look at it this way: as long as you’re dating Mellark, it means he’s not dating Madge, right?”

I cringe inside. I was hoping he wouldn’t bring Madge up tonight. I promised Madge I wouldn’t tell anyone about her pregnancy, but ever since she told me I have been dreading the possibility of seeing Gale and having to listen to him go on about how much he likes her and wants her, all the while knowing that she is currently knocked-up by god knows who.

“Whoa, what’s that look for?” Gale asks with a little laugh. Apparently my internal reaction was a little more apparent than I had thought.

“Nothing,” I say evasively, refusing to meet his eye.

“Katniss, what is it?” Gale says grabbing my arms and trying to make me look at him. He sounds so worried that I decide to just bite the bullet and do what I know is best for my best friend. My loyalty should be to him before Madge.

“Look, Gale, you really need to find a way to just forget about Madge. I can’t tell you why, but I happen to know that it is never going to work out between you two.” His face is becoming harder and more determined with each word I say.

“Tell me what you know,” he says quietly.

“I can’t, Ga-“

“Dammit, Katniss, I’m not fucking around here! Tell me!”

“She’s pregnant,” I blurt out, not even meaning to, but I’m just so startled by Gale vehemence.

His face completely drains of color and I see a look on his face I’ve never seen before. It is a disturbing mix of terror and anguish. “Gale?”

“How do you know?” His voice is so quietly menacing when he speaks again that I don’t even consider the possibility of not answering.

“She told me,” I state simply.

“Is it?” he doesn’t even fully formulate the question, just points in the direction of the dining room to indicate that he is asking if Peeta is the father.

“No!” I proclaim adamantly. “They never even slept together.”

Gale doesn’t say another word- he barely even waits for the words to come out of my mouth before he unceremoniously pushes past me and storms out the kitchen door, letting it slam behind him. I am still staring after him dumbfounded when I hear a car start outside and peal out of the driveway.

A second later I realize that Hazel has rushed into the kitchen. “What just happened?” she asks breathlessly.

“I have no idea,” I answer honestly, totally bewildered.

* * *

 

Two hours later I am shivering on Finnick’s back patio despite the fact that I am wrapped in Peeta’s hoody, which I have layered over my dad’s old leather hunting jacket. I don’t actually mind since it gives me an excuse to bury my face in the hoody so that I am engulfed in the delicious aroma that is uniquely Peeta. Other than Peeta, Annie and I, Finnick has invited two other couples: one of the guys on the football team, Cato, and his girlfriend Clove and then Delly Cartwright, which I totally did not understand until I saw that Delly brought a girlfriend as well… and they were definitely not afraid of PDA. Currently, Delly and her girl were hard making out in the hot tub, with a rapt audience of Cato and Clove. Last time I glanced over there I saw some hands moving under water, so now I am very deliberately keeping my eyes averted. I definitely did not have Delly pegged as that kind of girl.

Peeta, Annie, Finnick and I are all seated around a fire pit built into the patio. I am still somewhat in awe of Finnick’s house even though I have been here a handful of times now. You could fit my entire house inside the space that this patio alone takes up.

I have to admit that when Peeta first told me a few days ago that he took the liberty of inviting Annie over to Finnick’s and that he told her we were both going, I was a little peeved. It didn’t last long, of course. Peeta Mellark is an irresistible force in my life- one little lopsided grin and a humble apology muttered into the skin beneath my ear cured me of any irritation. But now I must concede that everything seems to be working out okay. I don’t know what has gotten into Finnick, but he is actually being astonishingly gentle and respectful of Annie.

Besides, it doesn’t make any sense for me to be worried about Annie when she seems to be having a pretty good time. She and Finnick have been talking easily all night and he has even been able to drag a few laughs out her. I guess if both Annie _and_ Peeta see some redeeming qualities in him, than I can give him a chance too.

Besides, I have already had to worry about one friend tonight. I am deliberately putting Gales concerns out of my mind because I really don’t want to waste this rare opportunity for alone time with Peeta, whom I am grateful to for the fact that he hasn’t pushed me for details regarding Gale’s outburst. I just told him that it was to do with Gale and someone else and that I couldn’t go into it, and in a display of astoundingly mature trust, Peeta accepted that and let it go. Just thinking about this makes me even more desperate to get him alone than I have been all night. I think he deserves a show of gratitude for being such a great boyfriend and I am eager to give it to him.

I can’t quite hide the wicked smile that this thought brings to my face. I am tired of waiting for Peeta to make some sort of move here, so I decide to take matters into my own hands. I lean up a bit so that I can reach his ear from where he is sitting beside me on a loveseat style piece of patio furniture and, letting my lips deliberately graze his earlobe, whisper, “I’m kind of cold. Do you want to go in with me to warm up a little?”

“Yes!” he says immediately and rather loudly. I blush as both Annie and Finnick glance over at us, but Peeta ignores them and, pulling me with him, stands to lead the way inside.

Once we are inside and out of the others’ hearing range he says, “God, I was beginning to worry I would never get a minute alone with you.”

“Well, then why didn’t you say something?” I ask as we make our way up a set of back stairs hand in hand.

“Because,” Peeta says as we enter what I can only assume he knows to be a guest bedroom, “if I suggested we come inside, everybody would just assume I was trying to get you alone to fool around.”

I laugh at this as he closes the door behind us, “Peeta, that’s exactly what we’re doing. And I’m pretty sure they all know it… and they couldn’t care less.”

Peeta walks into the room a ways and clicks on a small lamp which illuminates enough that we can easily see, but is still dim enough to seem intimate. My suspicions about the room are confirmed; the furnishings are non-descript enough that it is clear that nobody lives in this room. There is a queen bed directly in the center of the wall opposite the door which is made up with a plush down comforter and several pillows. The Odairs probably spent more on this one bed than what it cost us for mine, Prim’s and my mom’s bed and bedding combined.

“Fancy,” I say quietly as sit upon the bed and run my hand across the top.

Peeta sits next to me and grabs my hand. Raising it to his lips he presses a firm kiss to my knuckles before he says, “Katniss, just so you know, I don’t, like, expect anything from you.”

He is so sweet that sometimes I feel like my heart is never going to stop aching from the feelings he causes within it. “I know, Peeta,” I say, “but I want to be with you right now… Maybe not all the way- not tonight- but I want to do stuff with you.” I am blushing profusely. No matter how much I trust Peeta, talking about this stuff so frankly is not easy for me.

“Okay,” he says simply as he leans in and claims my mouth with his.

In a matter of seconds we are reclining back on the bed and he is half lying on top of me, our tongues sweeping sweetly against each other. Peeta is braced on one elbow, and his free hand is cupping my face gently, his thumb stroking back and forth across my cheekbone.

Just as it always does when we are together, the hunger for more washes over me, and I break the kiss to pull away and begin frantically pulling off the hoody and jacket I am still wearing, suddenly burning up. Peeta leans up and helps me and before I know it, my T-shirt is off too and I am laying before him in my jeans and bra. He delicately traces an index finger across the fleshy part of both of my breasts right along the top of each bra cup. The caress causes me to quiver and arch up just slightly.

“Can I see you?” he asks, his blue eyes staring intently into mine.

My only response is a silent nod. I am expecting him to reach around me to unfasten my bra, but he doesn’t right away. Instead he leans down slowly and traces his lips along the same path that his finger took just a moment ago. I gasp at the feeling of his lips on me in such an intimate place and my center, which is already really damp, becomes saturated with arousal. He takes his lips on a return path across my breasts and pauses in the middle, first planting a kiss directly over my heart and then moving his face down to bury it in my cleavage. I bring my hands up to tangle in his hair and hold him there, feeling his hot breath as it creates condensation between my breasts.

When he lifts his head again he is smiling and, chuckling softly, tells me, “I’ve wanted to do that since Halloween when you wore that damn Black Widow costume. I swear to god you were trying to kill me that night.”

I laugh, too, marveling at how he can be so sweet and serious one minute, and then light and flirty the next. I am so turned on that I just want to push him to move faster so that we can both experience some relief, so I lean up and reach behind my back to unclasp my bra. He has leaned back to watch me and, as I begin to draw it forward down my arms, he grabs on to help me and pulls it off the rest of the way.

He rises up onto his knees and I lay back, blushing self-consciously. That feeling soon fades as I take in the look of lust and desire and adoration on his face as he stares at my breasts for what surely must be way too long. “ _Peeta,”_ I finally say, snapping him out of his revelry.

He needs no further encouragement and brings both of his hands forward so that each cups one of my breasts. I’m not exactly sure if I should be doing something, but he seems content to just explore on his own, cupping and gently kneading them in his warm palms. When he begins to rub the palms of his hands gently across my hardened nipples I can’t repress the moaning gasp that escapes my throat. I don’t think my nipples have ever felt this achy and sensitive, and they seem to have a direct line to my clit, which has begun to feel needy as well. I don’t know what possesses me, but I reach up and cover Peeta’s hands with my own, squeezing so that his hands tighten on my breasts. He catches on quickly and in no time we have discovered together that pinching and plucking at my nipples causes my back to arch slightly off the bed in pleasure. Then, when he swoops his head down unexpectedly to draw one nipple into his mouth with a firm sucking motion, I moan loudly and my back bows up severely, the sensation so intense that I have to twist away from his mouth for a moment of relief.

I don’t give him the opportunity to come back for more as I sit up and frantically begin clawing at his shirt. I rip it over his head aggressively and trace my hands down his chest, letting my fingers dance over his six pack and scraping my fingernails gently through his blonde happy trail. His hard-on is on prominent display through his jeans, and I am suddenly so curious to see it, so anxious to make good on the promise I made earlier.

Placing both of my palms on his chest I push hard, and he complies, letting himself topple over backwards so that he is lying down and I am kneeling over him now. He has just a little bit of light blonde hair right at the center of his chest which I scratch my nails through lightly before squeezing the small firm muscles of his pecs. I crawl fully over him, not missing the fact that he is watching my small breasts sway with my movements over him, and lean down to kiss him hard.

When I pull away I move to the side of his face and let my breath resonate in the shell of his ear as I whisper, “Do you want me to make good on my promise?” I fail utterly at sounding seductive as my voice cracks.

Peeta doesn’t seem to mind as he nods his head and, bringing his hands up to cup my ass, says breathlessly, “Yes, I do.”

I smile coyly down at him as I move down toward his chest again and say, “You _really_ have a thing for my ass don’t you, Mellark.”

He gasps out a laugh and says, “ _God, Katniss, you have no idea…”_

We don’t talk again for a while as I busy my mouth with kissing down his chest and stomach. I am thankful in this moment to the Meadowglen athletics program, because his body is unreal. I dart my tongue out and let it trace a trail down the deep indent down the center of his stomach created by his toned abdominal muscles.

I lift my head when I reach for the fastening of his jeans so that I can actually see what I am doing as I slide the button free and lower the zipper. He is panting hard now, almost to the point of hyperventilation, as I run my palm up his length with only his boxer shorts separating my skin from his.

“Fuck, Katniss, you are going to kill me,” he groans out between his teeth as he lifts his hips and begins tugging down his pants and boxers himself.

I am beyond excited that he is so desperate for me, a feeling which increases tenfold as he succeeds in lowering his boxer enough so that his erection is revealed. My reaction upon seeing my first in-person penis is surprise. I could tell it was big through his clothes, but I guess I didn’t realize just how much his pants contained it. My next reaction is utter fascination. I am intrigued by the fact that it so hard, but as I trace my index finger down the side, the skin feels as smooth and soft as silk.

I look up and see that Peeta’s eyes are not watching what I’m doing with my hand, but are trained on my face instead. “Are you okay?” he asks.

I nod and say, “Yes. I just… I didn’t expect it to be… to be so… red.” Even to my own ears I sound totally naïve.

He drops his head back and, throwing his arm over his eyes, says, “Fuck, Katniss, that’s because I’m going to come literally any second now!” He almost sounds exasperated. I guess maybe right now is not the best time to try to satisfy my curiosity about his body.

I’m not sure what possess me, but just before I grip his dick with my hand I change my mind and decide that I want to kiss him here. He’s still not watching what I am doing, so I think it must take him completely by surprise when he feels my wetted lips press a kiss right on the tip. His head snaps up to watch me now, and keeping my eyes trained on his face, I dart my tongue out and lick the drop of moisture that has coalesced there.

“ _Fuuuuck!”_ he groans so loudly that I am a little worried someone will hear, until I remember that everybody else is outside.

I decide to follow my instincts and let my actions be led by the little bits of information I have picked up from years of hearing others talk about this act. I open my mouth and take in the whole head, pausing to sweep my tongue along the underside before slowly pushing more into my mouth. Peeta’s hips buck up off the bed unexpectedly so that I have to pull my head back to accommodate. I only have to bob my head up and down a few times before he is desperately grabbing handfuls of the comforter and moaning between clenched teeth, “ _Ungh! Fuck, Katniss, fuuuck… I’m going to come, fuck… fuck… fuuuuuuck!”_  And then on his final drawn out ‘fuck’ I feel several spurts of hot liquid hit the back of my throat.

I would like to say I handled it gracefully, but I was totally unprepared for the reality of Peeta’s semen in my mouth, so I ended up swallowing some, and then some of it ended up back on him. His head is still thrown back and I can see that his jaw is still clenched tight as he twitches in the aftershocks of his orgasm. He looks so hot like this, with the muscles flexing in his jaw and in his abdomen. I am brought back to harsh awareness of my own needy ache for release as watching him relish in his orgasm causes another bout of seeping arousal at my core.

I sit back on my knees next to Peeta as I watch him finally start to relax. I’m not sure what I should do, what is the proper etiquette for dealing with a post-orgasmic boyfriend?

After a moment he raises his head to look at me and a soft, satisfied smile stretches across his face. “Come here, Katniss,” he says, extending his right hand towards me. I go willingly to lie down beside him, and let him pull me against him and take my mouth in a hard kiss. I briefly register surprise that he doesn’t seem to mind kissing me even though he just came in my mouth. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you faster,” he says when he finally pulls away.

It takes me a second to figure out what he means, and once I do I just smile and say, “I didn’t mind. It was actually… kinda hot…” Smiling I tuck my face into his chest to hide my blush. I mumble my next question into his chest without looking up. “Was it… okay?”

He removes his left hand from its current place, sifting through my hair, down to my chin so that he can tip my face up to his before he says, “Katniss, that was without doubt, hands down, the best thing I have _ever_ felt in my entire life.” I tuck my head back into his chest and let him feel my answering smile against his skin.

We lay there quietly for a while, but eventually Peeta notices the way I am clenching my thighs together and squirming to try and create friction against myself with my jeans. He rolls just a little so that I am on my back with his right arm tucked underneath my head. After what he did to me earlier and then the excitement of getting him off, it only takes a few moments for Peeta to make me come. This time he uses his thumb to rub my clit and actually inserts first one, and then a second finger inside of me. I am a goner from the first second I feel his breath in my ear whispering about how tight and wet I feel around his fingers.

His hand is still in my jeans, cupping my sex a few minutes later when his soft, even breathing tells me that he has actually dozed off. I leave it there, liking the way his warm hand feels on me. As I doze off too I can’t help but think, as much as I loved what we did tonight, if Peeta had pushed for it even a little bit, I probably would have allowed more… I probably would have allowed everything. In those quiet moments before I drift off to sleep, I acknowledge the fact that it won’t be very long at all until Peeta and I are together in every way possible. In all the ways our bodies are telling us they want it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think or hit me up on tumblr (plumgal1899).


	11. Its the One Thing You Can Choose

I’ve been sitting at my desk staring at a blank word document for at least an hour now. I woke up early this morning because I have an essay due tomorrow for my freshmen English composition course. It is not like me to put something off until the last day, but this essay sort of snuck up on me. It’s only 3,000 words, which I could normally knock out in no time, but my lack of focus combined with my lack of sleep is really getting in my way.

It was after 3am when Peeta brought me home from Finnick’s last night. We had both fallen asleep after… well afterward, and it was 2am when Annie finally broke down and woke us up. She had simply knocked lightly and told us through the door how late it had gotten. After we dressed and made our way downstairs I couldn’t stop blushing despite the fact that nobody made an issue of our disappearance at all.

Annie and Finnick were alone in the living room- I don’t know where the other two couples had gotten off to and I didn’t want to even think about it. Peeta drove both Annie and I home, and I apologized profusely to Annie the whole way to her aunt and uncle’s house for having abandoned her with Finnick. She just wore an enigmatic smile and insisted that it was fine, that they had just talked and he was a perfect gentleman.

Over the past few months that Annie and I had been friends, I had gleaned enough of her past in bits and pieces to have a reasonable understanding of what her life had been like and why she had come here to live with in Meadowglen to finish her senior year at a new school. Both of her parents had died tragically in a car accident a few years ago- hit by a drunk driver, both dead by the time the first responders had arrived. Annie had gone to live with her mother’s father who was, at best, totally neglectful. In need of some sort of human connection, Annie had started to spend time with too many boys who didn’t really give a damn about her. She made the immature mistake that so many young girls make, thinking that she could somehow get love through sex. Before too long, she had developed a reputation which made other girls hate her and made boys only want one thing from her.

Hearing her story it was immediately obvious to me that she was desperately lonely, but most of the kids at her old high school found it easier to judge her and call her a slut. No girls would even associate with her after a while, and none of the boys wanted anything to do with her beyond hooking up. She started getting bullied pretty bad; someone spray painted ‘SLUT’ on her locker, girls started harassing her on Facebook, false rumors went around that she was sleeping with teachers or that she had gotten pregnant several times and had had numerous abortions.

Over the summer she moved to Meadowglen so that she could get a fresh start. I am really the only friend she has made so far. She finds it hard to trust people, which I can totally understand given her circumstances. For whatever reason though, she and I became friends effortlessly- not an easy thing for either of us to do. I think she recognized something of herself in me- someone who had endured real hardship and who had had to grow up too fast because of it. Every time she would reveal something about her past I could tell she was kind of surprised to have said anything, but I guess sometimes you just meet people that you instantly click with and you somehow know it will be okay. That is what it has been like for Annie and I. She is the first and only close girlfriend I have ever really had.

It has been so nice to have her as a friend because I can talk to her about things that I can’t talk to Gale or Prim about… like my relationship with Peeta. And, like everybody I care about, I am probably a little too protective of Annie. She is such a kind and gentle person, so unlike myself, that I worry that someone will take advantage of her or hurt her again. This is why I am leery about her spending time with Finnick. His track record with girls is total shit, and I just don’t want Annie to end up in the same situation she was in at her old school. She told me once that she has sworn off sex until she is sure she is in love and _actually_ loved back, but Finnick can be pretty smooth. I’ll just have to keep watching out for her… and figure out some way to show Finnick that I have no problem sending a bow through his groin if he hurts her.

I am brought out of my dark thoughts when I hear my phone ring. I’m glad no one is around to witness the huge grin that spreads across my face when I see that it is Peeta calling. I let the phone ring until the last possible minute so that I can stare at the picture that flashes on my screen whenever he calls. It is one that he took of us a few days ago; we are up on his hill overlooking the western valley, my head is on his shoulder and we are both smiling into the camera which he was holding out in front of us. He texted me the picture and I immediately assigned it for his phone calls. I’m pretty sure the same one comes up on his phone when I call him. Whenever I let myself think about it, I am still surprised by all of these silly normal-teenage-girl things I do where Peeta is concerned.

“Hello,” I answer, hurrying to pick up at the last minute before my voicemail kicks in.

“Were you staring at the picture for too long again?” he asks, laughing. I confessed the last time he called that that is why I always let it ring for so long.

“Maybe,” I say evasively.

He chuckles again, “Well, I guess I can’t blame you… I kinda stared at it while I was falling asleep last night,” he admits. I’m really grateful that he can’t see my blush. When I don’t say anything in response he continues, “I just wanted to call and say ‘good morning’ and make sure you were okay… you know… with last night and everything.”

“I’m okay,” I’m sure he can probably hear the smile in my voice. “Are you okay?”

“Jesus, Katniss. I don’t think I’ve _ever_ been _more_ okay than I am right now.”

“Good.” I’m not sure how else to respond to that.

“So, um, would you, like… let me do that to you sometime?”

I think my heart slams to a stop as I register what he means. On the one hand, the thought is _really_ exciting. On the other… I mean, his hand is one thing… But his _mouth?_ I’m just not sure I’m ready for that. I don’t know what to say so I just try to turn it into a joke. “Well, that might be kind of hard… I’m not sure if you noticed, but I don’t have a penis.”

“ _Katniss_ , you know what I mean.” He is clearly not going to let me off the hook here.

It takes me a while to respond, and when I do I somehow manage to say all the wrong things. “I don’t know, Peeta. That just seems so _personal_ , you know? Why do you even want to do that? It’s not like it would be any fun for you… We can just keep things the way they are for a while, you know?”

He’s quiet for so long I start to wonder if he is going to respond at all. “ _Peeta?”_ I finally prompt him.

“Okay.”

“That’s it? Just ‘okay’?” I can tell by the tone of his voice that I have offended him.

“Yeah, what else should I say? I’m not going to push you into something you don’t want, Katniss.”

“I know that. I never thought you would. It just seems like you’re… bothered or something,” I say.

“Well, I’m not _happy_ about the fact that you don’t want to do something with me because it’s too ‘ _personal.’_ And I’m actually really starting to worry that you didn’t want what happened last night-”

I cut him off before he can finish, “What? No, why would you think that?”

He takes a while to respond again. “Your comment about it ‘not being any fun’ for me. Katniss, if you didn’t like going down on me it’s okay. I just wish you wouldn’t have done it if that’s the case. It makes me feel like the biggest creep in the world that you-”

“Peeta, don’t put words in my mouth! I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I did like it! _I really liked it._ ” I blush hard and slap my free hand over my eyes as I realize what I have just admitted to, and suddenly I understand his point. Neither of us says anything for a while and I am the one who finally breaks the silence. “I’m sorry. I see your point. You _want_ to do that for me. I’m just… not sure I’m comfortable enough with myself to _let_ you do that yet. It’s not about you, it’s about me. Does that make sense?”

He sighs and finally says, “Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry. It is totally up to you… I just… I like everything about you, including _everything_ about your body.” He is quiet for a second. “I want you to know that. Okay?”

His words bring a soft smile back to my face. “Okay,” I answer, “and it has only been a few weeks. Just give me a little time.”

“You’re right. God, Katniss, I’m sorry. I don’t know, I guess I just feel so close to you that I forget how little time we have actually been together.”

“I know. Me too. And don’t be sorry. I get it.”

“Plus, I guess I do sort of have a few years on you,” he says, and I’m relieved to hear that his voice sounds lighter. “I started thinking about doing this stuff with you several years ago.”

“What?! Really?” I am laughing now.

“Oh yeah,” he says emphatically. “Probably since I was like 12 or 13, I’d say.”

“No! That’s way too young!”

“Okay, well, I probably wasn’t thinking about going down on you from that age, but yeah, I was thinking about stuff.” I can’t believe how open his is about this. “I had definitely started having dreams by then.”

I giggle in a very un-Katniss-like way and say, “You know, I had a dream about you, too.”

“What?! For real? When?” He sounds really excited by this piece of information.

“I don’t know, a while ago. Before we were together. I guess it was after the first time I saw you with your shirt off. Do you remember that day when I saw you after football practice?” I ask coyly.

“Yeah. That day I took you to my spot, right?”

“Yup.” I don’t have the chance to say more because I hear the doorbell go off downstairs.

“So what was I doing in this dream?” I hear Peeta ask as I stand to head downstairs.

“I’m sorry, hang on. Someone is at the door.” I hear Peeta let out a little frustrated growl, but I choose not to respond as I make my way to the front door.

When I open the door I am surprised to see Gale standing there. He looks like total hell, still wearing the same clothes he had on last night, his hair sticking up all over his head, dark circles underneath bloodshot eyes.

“Hey, Peeta, I’m going to have to call you back,” I say distractedly.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Yeah, it’s just Gale. I’ll call you back in a little while, okay?”

“Um, yeah okay. Bye, baby.” I am momentarily distracted by the endearment. This is the first time he’s called me anything other than Katniss. I think I like it.

“Bye,” I say quietly before I hang up.

Gale has made his way into our small kitchen and begins brewing a pot of coffee. I see that his hands are shaking as he attempts to fill the carafe with water so I nudge him out of the way and take it from him. “Here, I’ll do it. Go sit down,” I tell him.

Once the coffee is brewing I join him at the kitchen table. He is staring intently down at his hands and doesn’t look up as I sit down. “What is going on Gale?” I finally ask him.

“Are you the only one home?” he asks quietly.

“No, my mom and Prim are both sleeping,” I tell him.

“What time is it?”

“Just after eight. Did you even go to bed last night?”

“No,” he says. Neither of us says anything else for a while. I want to know what is going on with him, but I’m afraid to push him. For one, I’ve never seen him look so upset, and for another, I am afraid I know what is happening, and I’m scared to have it confirmed.

After probably ten minutes of us sitting in silence I get up and begin making both of us a cup of coffee. I am stirring in cream with my back to him when I hear him say quietly, “It’s mine.”

The spoon slips out of my hand and clatters on the counter loudly in the otherwise quiet kitchen. “What?” I finally ask, although I don’t know why. I am perfectly aware of his meaning.

He answers anyway, “The baby… Madge’s baby… I’m the father.”

“How did this happen, Gale?” I finally ask stupidly because I don’t know what else to say.

He glances at me with a look that says ‘how the hell do you think it happened, dumbass?’ so I clarify by saying, “I mean, I thought she wouldn’t even give you the time of day. I thought you were just hung up on her because she ignored you. When did you guys even…?”

“This summer. We kept it secret… She wanted to keep it a secret because of her dad and, I don’t know, all of her friends. She didn’t want them to know she was seeing a poor Seam punk,” his voice is filled with so much bitterness as he spits the last part out. “The first time we had sex was in June and we were basically together all summer. She thinks she has been pregnant since at least early July. She found out in August.”

I don’t have any idea how I should respond to this so I just stay quiet and eventually he continues, “She broke it off with me at a bonfire in late August. She knew then. _She fucking knew she was pregnant and that is why she ended things!_ ” His eyes are wet and his Adam’s apple is bobbing up and down as though he is trying to keep his emotions in check. “That same night, at that same fucking party, I saw her making out with Peeta _fucking_ Mellark! How the fuck could she just decide to replace me? Just like that?”

A light bulb goes off in my head at the mention of Peeta’s name and I suddenly realize why she freaked out when I asked who the father was the day she told me she was pregnant. She must have realized that she had inadvertently confessed she was pregnant to the baby’s father’s best friend. “Peeta never knew anything about her being pregnant and he still doesn’t. As far as I know, I am the only person she ever told.”

“Katniss, I would do _anything_ for that girl. And I know she loves me. I know it,” he says emphatically.

“How do you know that, Gale?” I ask because I don’t want him to get the idea of them becoming a family into his head if that’s not what she wants.

“That night at the bonfire, she told me. We fucking had sex in my truck and she told me she loved me and that no matter what happened she wanted me to remember that. Then afterward she broke up with me and… I just don’t understand. Do you think she was just fucking with my head?” He slides his fingers into his hair and grabs two fistfuls and starts pulling.

I reach over and gently grab his wrists to pull his hands away. “Gale, stop that,” I say quietly.

“Then a few weeks later- that night we went to Finnick Odair’s party- I was talking to that brunette cheerleader and Madge just came up and grabbed my hand and pulled me away. We went into a bathroom and she started making out with me. She kept saying that I didn’t love her, that I wouldn’t be like this if I loved her. I had no idea where it was coming from or what she was talking about. She’s the most confusing fucking girl on the planet!” He gets up now and begins pacing the length of the kitchen. “Then she just left the bathroom saying she had a boyfriend and she couldn’t do this. Then like ten minutes later, I don’t know what the hell happened, but she just came back up to me and asked me to leave with her… and we slept together _again.”_

“She cheated on Peeta?!” I exclaim. I remember Peeta getting a call from Madge when he was taking me home that night. So that is why she wanted him to hurry back to the party. Because she knew if he didn’t she would cave to the temptation to be with Gale. Apparently Peeta hadn’t made it back soon enough.

Gale stops pacing and looks at me, “Can we keep some fucking perspective on this please? I think everything has worked out pretty well for _Peeta_ ,” he says snidely, “What am I going to do?”

“Right, sorry,” I say shaking my head. “So I assume when you stormed out of here last night, that’s where you went?”

“Yeah, I went to her house. I texted her to tell her that she had better come out and talk to me or I was going to come in and talk to her dad.” He sits back down and grabs his hair in his fists again. “I know she loves me, Katniss. God, we fucking slept together _again_ last night even though we were fighting about all of this!”

“So what is she going to do?” I ask softly.

“I don’t know. I’m going to help her figure this out. I don’t care how much she tells me not to worry about it. Fuck that! I have a right to know what’s happening with my kid, and I _want_ to be there for her. There is no way I can let her face this alone.”

“Is that what she said she wants? To deal with it by herself?”

“She doesn’t know what she wants. She said she went to a clinic; that she missed every day of school for a week and each day she went and sat in the parking lot. But she said she couldn’t make herself go in. I know Madge, Katniss. I know that she already loves this baby. I know that she couldn’t do that,” he says, his voice cracking with emotion.

“What do you want?” I ask after a long pause.

“I want her to have this baby. I mean, it’s _our_ baby… half me and half her. And I want to be with her every step of the way,” he is emphatic as he says this. This is the Gale I know. The man who will always stand up and do what he needs to do to take care of the people he loves.

“You need to tell her that. You need to tell her that you love her and you are not interested in these other girls, Gale. She may love you, but she doesn’t know you like I do. She doesn’t know that you will be there for her come hell or high water. She is terrified and that is what she needs to know right now.” I stop and think for a minute. “And you also need to come up with a plan.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything further because we hear movement in my mother’s room. She emerges a moment later and surprise registers on her face. “Oh, hello, Gale. You’re here early.”

“Um, yeah,” he says keeping his face averted from her. “I was just leaving, though.”

He stands up and to head out the door. I follow him, calling to his back, “Well, call me. Okay?”

“Yeah, I will. I promise,” he says just before the door closes behind him.

“He seems to be making a habit of storming out of here lately,” my mother observes quietly. She is intuitive, just like Prim, so I know that she knows something is wrong. I also know that she will not ask or try to get me to tell her. I may have some issues with my mother, but I appreciate her willingness to respect my privacy. In this case, that includes Gale’s privacy by extension. “Are you hungry?” she asks softly after a moment.

“Yeah, sure,” I say. I sit at the table and can’t help but dwell on everything Gale has told me about Madge. What would I do if I was in her situation? I would be terrified, for one. In no way could I have a baby right now. I have a very definite plan for my future and it does not include a kid anytime soon, if at all.

Then I think about Peeta. I think about how much I care about him already in such a short period of time. I think about the way my body reacts every time we are alone together. Last night, as Peeta and I were falling asleep in Finnick’s guest bedroom, I even acknowledged that I probably would have consented to having sex with Peeta if he had even remotely hinted that he wanted to take things farther.

“Mom,” I blurt before I even realize what I am doing, “I think I need to get on birth control.”

Her head snaps up to look at me from where she is standing at the counter cracking eggs into a bowl. “Okay,” she says slowly. “You and Peeta are…?”

“Um, well, we… haven’t yet. But, um, we might, you know? I just want to be safe.” My face is blazing red. I know my mom isn’t shaken by this kind of stuff- she is a nurse after all- but it is not easy for me to talk about this stuff.

“Okay, I’ll make an appointment for you. I think that this is very responsible of you.” I appreciate that she is not going to give me some lecture about abstinence or waiting until I’m in love.

I nod my head, and just say awkwardly, “Um, okay, thanks.”

She goes back to cooking breakfast, but a few minutes later speaks up again. “I really like Peeta. He seems like a very nice young man and I think he is very good for you.”

I can’t stop from smiling as I say, “Yeah, I like him too.”

“It was so nice to see you two together yesterday. You are so sweet together.”

 _“Mom!”_ now I am starting to get embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. Young love… it is very refreshing to see. Seeing you two together reminded me of your father and me when we first started dating…” she trails off wistfully, lost in thoughts of her young lover. After a minute I hear her humming to herself and I recognize the tune as one of the songs my father always used to sing.

Normally this would cause me to miss my father and feel nostalgic. But right now the only thing I feel is panic. I can’t stop my mind from racing back to my father’s death and the months following it. I don’t want to be like my mother and my father. I don’t want to be in love the way they were. I don’t want to need Peeta the way my mother needed my father. I have seen what that kind of love does to a person and I want no part of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Broken record, I know... but thanks for reading! I appreciate your interest! I would be delighted to hear from you. I'm also on tumblr (plumgal1899).


	12. Just to Reach You, Baby I'd Stand in Line

Something is wrong with Katniss. I’m not sure what, but she has definitely not been acting like herself these past few days. I haven’t actually seen her since Saturday night when I dropped her off from Finnick’s, and everything was fine then… everything was _great_ then. We talked on the phone Sunday morning, and even though I know the first part of our conversation made her uncomfortable, we talked it out and the conversation ended okay.

For the millionth time in the past four days a bit of doubt creeps into my mind about this, however. The only thing I know is that our conversation ended abruptly because Gale showed up and then Katniss never called me back like she said she would. After a few hours I texted her, but received no response. When she finally did get back to me it was several hours later, and her text simply said ‘ _Sorry, went hunting. I have to finish my essay. I will talk to you tomorrow.’_

At that point I didn’t make too much of it - Katniss is not exactly loquacious, even by texting standards- but I couldn’t stop the niggling little worry that sprang up. It wasn’t like her to just not call me or blow me off. And we had gotten in the habit of talking to each night before bed, but she was clearly dismissing that as an option.

I didn’t see her in school on Monday, which is not unusual, but when I texted her after I got home from football practice she was once again curt and evasive.

 _P: hey gorgeous_ , I sent first, trying to establish our usual flirty tone.

Several minutes went by without a response.

_P: you there?_

Several more minutes… I was determined that I wouldn’t try again until she responded… I failed.

_P: are you ignoring me? ;)_

As though the winking smiley face would make me seem less needy. When she didn’t respond yet again I tried to distract myself with some homework. When I heard my text tone go off a half an hour later, I scrambled to snatch up my phone as quickly as possible.

_K: Sorry. Busy._

That annoyed me.

_P: too busy to say hi?_

_K: I have an exam tomorrow. I’m studying._

_P: sorry to bother you…_

No response. It took every ounce of will power that I had to refrain from calling her. Instead I put my phone in my desk drawer to try to quell the urge and tried to refocus on my homework again. And again, I failed.

_P: okaaay… you’re busy, I get it I’ll leave you alone_

_P: but can I at least see you tomorrow?_

I was expecting to receive no response again so I was surprised when she responded right away.

_K: I can’t, I have plans_

I was so annoyed by that that I just turned my phone off completely without answering her and put it in my top dresser drawer to try to keep from thinking about it. I couldn’t stop myself from retrieving it an hour later, but when I turned it back on, there were no further messages form her. When I went to bed that night, I laid there staring at my phone, willing it to ring, hoping Katniss would call to say goodnight like we usually did. But my phone never rang and I eventually drifted off to sleep.

As her strange behavior has continued for three consecutive days now, I am really starting to freak out… and I’m more than a little pissed.

I just keep wracking my brain for any sort of hint as to what had gone wrong. Why is she treating me with such indifference all of a sudden when everything has been going so great? _Did something happen with Gale?_ The last time I actually spoke with her was when he had just shown up at her house. I don’t think Katniss would ever actually do anything with Gale… _Would she?_ No. Absolutely not. I refuse to believe that. _What then?_

Maybe she found out about the scholarship. I have absolutely no intention of telling her that I am the other student being considered for valedictorian. I still don’t know what to do with that bit of information myself and I know it would just stress her out. I have been trying really hard not to think about this ever since she inadvertently told me. The truth is, I need that scholarship if I have a hope of pursuing culinary school, but I know I couldn’t bear to be the obstacle that stands in the way of Katniss and her dream of UNC-Chapel Hill.

 _One thing at a time, Peeta._ My primary concern right now needs to be whether or not I still have a girlfriend at all. I can figure out the valedictorian thing when the time comes. Besides, I’m pretty sure there is no way Katniss knows about my involvement where that is concerned. I haven’t told anyone and I know none of the teachers or staff would have said anything to her.

I know how independent Katniss is, but I think I have been patient enough these past few days. Whatever she is dealing with, I have given her space and time to figure it out. I am done waiting. So even though I am exhausted from practice- coach is really kicking our ass this week because Friday is our last game of the season- I am still determined to see Katniss before I head home. I was hoping to catch her before she left for the day, but I’m not sure if she is still at the school because, even though it is Wednesday, the Meadowglen Mentors program is being held inside everyday now that it is mid-November and too cold for the kids to play outside.

I am walking down the hall toward the school’s large rec room where I believe the program is held when I see her. She has just emerged with her keys in hand and her school bag slung across her chest which is encased in the worn brown leather jacket she always wears- her father’s jacket, she once told me. She doesn’t see me as she walks quickly in the opposite direction with her head down. She seems to be looking at something on her phone.

“Katniss!” I shout after her.

She stops abruptly and turns to face me slowly, the hand holding her phone dropping to her side. Neither of us says anything as I walk up and stand close, directly in front of her. I don’t reach for her and she doesn’t reach for me, but we are each searching the other’s face intently. In hers I see sadness, and maybe a little fear. I’m sure she must see hurt, doubt, and anger in mine.

After a while I finally break the silence, blurting out the question I have lived in fear of for the past three days. “Are you going to break up with me?” I am embarrassed to hear my voice raspy with emotion.

It takes her a long time to answer. “No… I don’t know…” she finally says so quietly I can barely hear her.

I remember one time when we were running scrimmages in practice earlier this season, Cato took a cheap shot at me after the whistle just because he’s an asshole and he could. He tackled me so hard and so unexpectedly that every ounce of air in my lungs was pushed out in one big painful whoosh. I lay there gasping for what was probably only seconds, but what felt like several minutes, trying desperately to make my lungs work and to get another breath in. The pain in my lungs was so much more intense than anything I had felt in all my time playing aggressive sports and I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to make my lungs work again before I suffocated.

This is exactly what I feel like right now. With the three softly spoken words she has hit me harder and more unexpectedly than Cato ever could on the football field. I try my best to hide it, but I can see in her pained expression that she knows how bad it hurts to hear that she has possibly been considering breaking up with me. I realize that in all my fears over what is going on with her, deep down I hadn’t believed she would want to end things with me.

I am still trying to recover, trying to will my lungs to take in air without having to gasp for it and sacrifice my dignity when she speaks again. “I don’t want to break up with you,” as she speaks she looks down at the phone in her hand again. I see that what she was looking at as she walked down the hall, before she knew I was behind her, is the picture I took of the two of us together last Wednesday. How can things have changed so much in just one week?

“What happened, Katniss?” I am finally able to get out in a thin, somewhat choked voice. She shakes her head, but doesn’t attempt to answer my question, so I continue. “Did something happen with Gale?”

Her head snaps up to look at me then, confusion evident on her face. “Gale? No… why would you… _You think I did something with Gale?!”_ She doesn’t sound angry at my suggestion, just incredulous and somewhat hurt.

“I don’t know what to think,” I say simply. “You have ignored me for days, and the last time we spoke he had just shown up at your house.” The anger I was feeling earlier is steadily returning and I try to hold onto it. At least I can breathe again.

She shakes her head adamantly as she says, “I haven’t _ignored_ you and I would _NEVER_ do anything with Gale.”

I scoff and return, “You haven’t ignored me? Come on, Katniss, that’s bullshit and you know it!”

She looks down at her phone again, at our picture, and speaks softly not looking at me. “I’m so sorry Peeta. I know I’ve been… awful. But Gale has nothing to do with it.” She finally meets my gaze again as she states the last part firmly.

“Fine. Not Gale. What the hell happened then Katniss? Everything was… _so great_ … and then out of nowhere you’re saying you’re thinking about breaking up with me?”

“No, I haven’t been thinking about breaking up with you… I’ve just… been trying not to _think_ of you at all…” she flashes the screen of her phone at me as she finishes, “and failing miserably.”

“That doesn’t exactly make me feel better, Katniss.” I don’t say anything else because at that moment both Effie and Annie emerge from the rec room, Effie chatting away a mile a minute and Annie listening politely. I don’t think Effie has even noticed us as she leads the way in the opposite direction, but Annie is looking back over her shoulder at Katniss, a questioning look on her face that holds the silent message ‘ _is everything okay?’_ When Katniss makes no response Annie just holds her hand up to her ear mimicking a phone and Katniss nods once. _Yeah, Annie, she’ll call you right after she finishes destroying me,_ I think ungraciously.

As soon as they are out of earshot I continue and am unable to disguise the hurt in my voice, “So did you tell Annie that you were going to break up with me, or something?”

“What?! No, Peeta… I told you, I haven’t been _thinking_ about breaking up with you. I can’t even bear to think about that!” she answers emphatically. Her answer makes me feel slightly better, but only slightly. “Can we go somewhere to talk?” she asks.

“It depends. Do you want to go somewhere so you can let me down gently? Because if that’s the case then no, just do it and get it over with,” I say bleakly.

“ _Peeta._ Listen to me. I’m not breaking up with you. But if you want an explanation as to what happened on Sunday, well I’m going to have to lay a lot of personal shit out, and I’d rather not do it in the school hallway.” She sounds kind of exasperated now.

I just nod and start walking toward the exit that leads to the student parking lot. When we are both settled into my SUV I look at her expectantly. She raises her eyebrows and asks, “We’re not going anywhere?”

“I don’t really know where to go,” I answer her shortly.

“Oh, okay… I just figured you would take us to our spot… like every Wednesday.”

I am tempted to tell her that it is only _our_ spot if there is still going to be an _us_. Instead I shake my head and say, “I’d rather you just tell me now. I’m kind of freaking out here, Katniss.”

She nods and says, “Well, that I can understand… That is exactly what I have been doing since Sunday morning.”

“Why? Please tell me it’s not about our conversation. Because, seriously, that should be a non-issue… You know I’m willing to wait until you are comfortable with everything. And I thought we had figured all that out before we got off the phone anyway-” I am talking a mile a minute all of a sudden, all of these thoughts that have been swirling around my mind for days finally spilling out.

“It’s not that, Peeta!” she finally interjects to cut off my frantic tirade. “And it’s not about Gale either… Both of those would probably make a lot more sense than what it is about… I know you’re going to think I’m crazy and not understand…” she trails off quietly.

“I’ll try really hard to understand. Just tell me,” I say, grabbing her left hand in my right and squeezing it hard. It feels so nice to finally touch her again even if it is only her hand. It makes me realize how much I have missed her these past few days.

“I was talking to my mom…” she is quiet for a minute and I just wait patiently for her to decide what she wants to say. “I actually told her I should probably start taking birth control.” This causes an excited swooping sensation in my stomach, but I try not to let my reaction show on my face because Katniss is glancing up at me shyly now. I just nod to urge her to go on. “So, um, my mom started talking about young love and how we reminded her of my dad and her when they were our age.”

She says this as though that makes everything obvious, but I am still lost. “Okay, and…” I say.

“ _Peeta!_ You know what it was like after my dad died. How my mom just… disappeared…” She is staring intently at our joined hands. When I don’t say anything else she continues, “She loved him so much. She depended on him _so much_. When he died… she couldn’t stand it… couldn’t face her life without him. Not even for Prim and me.”

“Katniss, I’m sorry, but I’m still not sure I understand what this has to do with us.”

“I just… I can’t love you like that, Peeta. I don’t want her to look at us and say we are like her and my dad, because I don’t want to need you that much! I can’t become my mother. I can’t lose myself so completely to you. I just can’t let that happen.” She is so emphatic, so impassioned in what she is saying and I see that her eyes are glistening. “But I also can’t bring myself to _not_ feel these things for you. You know?”

I can’t help it. I am so grateful to finally know what has been going on and so relieved to hear that she has distanced herself because she is afraid to like me _too much_ that I can’t stop the little laugh that bubbles up from my chest and the smile that spreads across my face. “Katniss, is that seriously what you have been freaking out about? _This is why you’ve been acting so weird?”_

“It’s not funny, Peeta!” She yanks her hand out of mine abruptly, showing the temper that I have become familiar with and, honestly, have come to find kind of adorable. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. Just… never mind. Forget I said anything.”

I reach across her to grab her right hand which she has poised on the door handle, preparing to leave. “Katniss, stop! I don’t think it’s funny. I’m sorry. I’m just a little relieved. I have been terrified for the past few days that you were regretting everything, that you didn’t actually like me or want to be with me, or whatever. To find out that you are actually stressing because you like me _too much…_ I’m sorry, but yeah, I’m a little relieved!”

“I really am sorry I made you worry…” she mutters softly.

“Katniss, listen to me,” I say, “I _do_ understand. I mean, I’m not going to pretend to know how hard things were for you after your dad died, but I get it. You know? But you _are not_ your mom. In fact, everything you have ever told me about her makes me think that you are, like, _the opposite_ of your mom.” It takes her a minute, but when she eventually looks at me again I go on, more quietly now, “You are so much stronger than her, Katniss. But, if you are going to let the fear of what may or may not happen several years down the road drive us apart, well then, I guess that would mean your mom is a whole lot _braver_ than you.”

A tear finally spills down her cheek from her wet eyes, and I reach up to cup the side of her face and wipe it with my thumb. I don’t think I have ever seen her this vulnerable, not even in the few times when she has let down her defenses while we were exploring each other’s bodies. She scoots over some, closing the distance between us as much as our seats will allow and wraps her arms tightly around my waist and I lean in to wrap mine around her shoulders and bury my face in her hair.

I breathe deeply and let out a relieved breath. “Besides, I’m not planning on going anywhere any time soon. Don’t kill me off in your mind before my time, okay?” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

It works a little as she lets out a soft, watery sounding chuckle. “I’m sorry.” Neither of us speaks for a while, just leaning awkwardly across the center consul to hold each other. After a few minutes she is the first to break the silence. “I really missed you, Peeta,” she says, the words muffled into my chest.

“I missed you too,” I say simply. She lifts her head and I don’t think she has ever been more beautiful to me- despite her water eyes and face splotchy with emotion- as she lifts her chin in a silent plea for a kiss. I lean in and kiss her slowly, reveling in the feeling of her soft lips on mine again. _How is it possible that four days away from Katniss feels like four months?_

I’m not sure how long we spend exploring each other’s mouths, but she eventually breaks the kiss with a soft bite to my bottom lip which she traces with her tongue afterward. I just hope she is not aware of the effect the kiss has had on me down below. I don’t want her to think I am some kind of sex crazed jerk who can’t control my reaction to her even when I should only be worried about comforting her.

“So, what do you think about the other thing?” she says. I raise a confused eyebrow at her because, in my lust addled brain, I’m not sure what she means.  She clarifies, “I mean about the whole birth control thing.”

I clear my throat to give me time to formulate an adequate response. With the way I am feeling right now, I want to just shout emphatically that I think it is _fantastic!_ Instead, I say slowly and calmly, “I’m good with that. You know, whenever you are ready, Katniss, I’ll be here.”

She smiles and looks down shyly. I’m not entirely surprised when she changes the subject- Katniss doesn’t really seem to like forthright conversations about sex. “So, do you forgive me for freaking out and being a total bitch these past few days?”

“You weren’t being a bitch,” I say graciously and she lifts her head to give me an incredulous look. I chuckle and say, “Okay, maybe an ice queen, but not a bitch. But yes, I forgive you… Next time, just come to me and tell me when something is wrong. Okay?” I kiss her softly on the nose before I say, “Besides, I feel like I have a real talent for reigning in your crazy.”

She gasps in mock indignation and pinches my side underneath my ribs. “I _am not_ crazy!” she responds, laughing now.

“Yeah, I know… It’s totally normal, rational behavior to almost end a relationship because you care about your boyfriend too much and he cares about you back…”

She laughs again, and says, “Just shut up, Peeta,” before leaning up to kiss me again. She doesn’t have to tell me again. I have missed her too much these past few days. I will gladly shut up for a while if this how she intends to keep my mouth busy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for continuing to read!! I appreciate it! :D


	13. Feel My Skin on Your Skin

“What about this one, Katniss?”

I look up at the sound of Annie’s softly spoken words and immediately start blushing as I observe what she is holding up for my inspection with a mischievous smile flirting at the corners of her mouth. Why did I think I wanted someone along for this? Now that I’m here, I can clearly see that this is one of those tasks that one should face alone. “ _Annie,”_ I whisper emphatically, “put that down before someone sees it.”

She giggles a little and says, “But, it’s on _clearance_.”

“I can see why,” I say in disgust as I glance away from the red and white teddy, complete with garters and matching crotchless panties. “Not only is it awful, but Christmas was a week ago. I don’t really think there’s a high demand for trashy Mrs. Clause lingerie at the moment.”

Annie is still smiling softly as she rehangs the offending item on the sale rack and says, “So what _are_ you looking for, then?”

God, this is so humiliating. I feel like every person in this pink monstrosity of a store is watching me, judging me, knowing that I am in here trying to find something ‘sexy’ to wear for my boyfriend. I don’t think my face could possibly get any redder. “Ech, I can’t do this, Annie. Let’s just go. I’ll wear something I already own.”

I turn to head towards the exit but Annie catches my arm and gently pulls me back. “Come on, Katniss, you can do this. Let’s just start simple. What is Peeta’s favorite color?” I let her lead me to a rack of slightly more modest bra and panty sets in an assortment of styles and colors.

I pick out a matching set in a deep orange color that is made of material so filmy that they are completely translucent. I know that Peeta will love them. Of course, I think he’ll love anything as long as it is me wearing it, but that’s not the point. I just want to show him that I was thinking of him and that I wanted to do something special for him.

I tuck the hanger under my arm, trying to conceal my items as much as possible as I make a bee-line for the cashier. Thankfully the sales-girl is unoccupied so I shove everything at her across the counter, hoping that she will bag it quickly and without incident. But of course, she has to make a big production of removing the security device and hanger, folding the items neatly and placing them in tissue paper. “These are so cute,” she says, trying to make polite conversation, “I have the same set in blue.”

I nod without responding, blushing furiously. When it is clear I don’t plan on saying anything she continues, “Big plans for tonight I take it?” _What the fuck?_ Who asks a total stranger that? I just clear my throat and look away, trying to find Annie to give her the ‘come rescue me now’ look, but her back is to me as she sifts through a bin of underwear that look more like my usual speed- soft, cotton, modest. Before I can attract her attention, the sales girl is speaking again. “Can I interest you in any our massage oils? They are buy one get one free right now,” she says with a knowing smile, as though she has predicted how I’m going to spend my New Year’s Eve and thinks she’s doing me a huge favor by pointing out the scented oils.

I shake my head impatiently and say brusquely, “No. I really would like to just pay for this, please. I’m kind of in a hurry.”

She is much cooler for the remainder of our exchange as she takes my money and hands over the bag. I know she’s just doing her job, but Jesus, you would think they would be trained to act with a little more discretion at a lingerie story. When I finally have my purchase in hand I bark at Annie to come on as I make a bee-line for the door.

I take a deep, calming breath as soon as I reach the mall’s broad corridor, taking in the scent of spiced almonds and the cacophony of holiday themed aromas emanating from the Yankee Candle shop across the way. Once Annie has caught up with me I shove the garish pink striped bag at her. “Here, carry this for me, please.”

She laughs in her soft, musical way and asks. “Why do I have to carry it? It’s your _naughty lingerie.”_ The way she waggles her eyebrows at me as she sing-songs the last two words reminds me so much of Finnick. His influence on her over the past month is evident.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Odair,” I mutter as I begin walking toward the food court. “Besides,” I say to her over my shoulder as she rushes to keep up with my brisk pace as I dodge through the throngs of post-holiday sale shoppers, “you’re a lot more used to all this sex stuff than I am. It doesn’t embarrass you the way it does me.”

When I don’t hear her respond I pause and glance back at her. Her face is blank as she continues walking, but I don’t miss the wounded look in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Annie. I didn’t mean it like that,” I say quietly, falling into step beside her attempting to grab my bag from her.

“No, I know that,” she says, holding the bag out of my reach. “It’s fine, Katniss.” There is no sharpness to her tone, as though it really is fine, but I still curse myself silently. She has seemed so carefree lately that it has been easy for me to forget that she is damaged. But every now and then something like this will happen, and I am reminded that she is very fragile, like a delicate piece of crystal poised too closely to the edge of a ledge.

We don’t say anything more as we wait in line at the food court Sabarro and each order a slice of pizza. Annie is the first to speak again once we have settled at one of the tiny, filthy tables amid the raucous crowd. “It’s just that… I don’t want you to think of me that way,” she says in nearly a whisper, her gaze trained downward at her tray.

“I don’t think of you that way, Annie! _Not at all._ ” She glances up at me and I continue, “I’m really sorry. You’ve just seemed so much better lately. It’s been easy to forget that there is even something to be sensitive about at all. As much as I hate to admit it, I think Finnick is actually a positive influence in your life…”

Her characteristic shy smile gently stretches across her face. “He is,” she says simply.

I have been curious for a while now, so since we are on the subject I go ahead and ask, “So what is the deal with you two, anyway?”

She is still smiling dreamily as she responds, “Nothing really. I mean, we are just friends.” I can tell she wants to say more so I wait through a long pause while she decides how much she is going to share with me. “I, um… I actually told him about my past…” Her smile dims a little and her brow creases between her eyes. She tends to try to avoid her past at all costs.

“Really?” I say, unsure how to respond.

She nods and says, “He was really great about it, actually. He said that he couldn’t care less about my past and that if anybody could understand the lengths someone would go to to drive away loneliness he could… He just… He really gets it. You know?”

“Finnick, lonely?” I ask incredulously.

Nodding she explains, “He is the loneliest person I’ve ever known, Katniss. Everything he shows the world… that’s just a show. I think that is why we are kind of drawn to each other, you know. We recognized it in each other right away.”

“But he has so many friends. And girls… I’m sorry, but he’s been with _a lot_ of girls.”

“I know. But Peeta is his only _real_ friend… and sex did about as much to cure loneliness for him as it did for me…” She trails off and I curse myself for the second time in less than a half hour. I really am tactless. “Did you know he was raised by a nanny until he was thirteen?” she continues. “He barely knows his parents. His mom is Russian and she hates America. She doesn’t really even live in that house because she spends most of the year in St. Petersburg with her family. And his dad is always away on business, building the Odair Empire, I guess. Finn says even when he _is_ home they really don’t see each other… His dad fired Alena, the nanny, when Finn was thirteen because he said she wasn’t needed anymore now that Finn was old enough to stay by himself. Can you imagine someone just deciding that you no longer needed the only parent you’ve ever known and sending them away? He’s been almost entirely alone in that big house for four years now.” Annie looks so sad as she says this. My heart must be softening toward Finnick, because I have to admit that I am happy that Annie and Finnick have found each other.

“So… Just friends, huh?” I say with a raised eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Her smile returns. “Yes, just friends… for now.” I wait out another of her long pauses and she eventually elaborates, “I mean, I know he wants more, but I have made it clear that I am not ready for any of that and he’s been really great, actually. So, yeah, we _are_ just friends, but with the unspoken agreement that neither of us want to date anyone else either.”

“So, are you, like, friends who make out?” I ask, unable to resist teasing her a little in payback for the stunt with the Christmas teddy.

“ _No!_ We really are just regular _friend_ friends!” she laughs.

“Okay, that makes perfect sense. _Friend_ friends who are crazy about each other and don’t want to date anyone else,” I return, laughing now too.

“It makes sense for us!” she says emphatically, throwing a piece of sausage from her pizza at me. “Just because you are all sappy, and giddy and buying sexy lingerie for a special New Year’s Eve rendezvous doesn’t mean the rest of us are, Everdeen.”

I gasp in mock outrage at this and peel off a piece of peperoni to send her way.

* * *

 

I few hours later, after a quick stop at home to shower and don my newest purchase, I pull my beat-up old Escort into the small drive behind Peeta’s family’s bakery. He has invited me over because his parents are both out of town at his great-aunt’s 90 th birthday party, so he has the whole place to himself all weekend. In honor of finally having real privacy, we have eschewed the invitation to Finnick’s New Year’s Eve party and Peeta is making me dinner.

We haven’t really talked about it, but I think we both have the same expectation for where the rest of the night will lead…

I can already smell the delicious aroma of whatever he is cooking as I stand outside the door that leads up to the family apartment above the bakery. It only takes Peeta a few seconds to rush down the stairs after I ring the bell, and I don’t even have a moment to say hello as he immediately wraps his arms tightly around me and lifts me off the ground, pressing his lips to mine in a hard kiss.

“God, I’m happy to see you,” he says, finally setting me down on unsteady legs. I experience a little thrill as I think about what I am wearing underneath my simple sweater and jeans, knowing that he doesn’t suspect anything. It is exciting, like I have a sexy little secret that I get to choose to let him in on at some point tonight.

“I just saw you yesterday,” I say smiling as he leads me inside and up the stairs.

“Yeah, but this will be the first time I get to have you entirely to myself without the threat of someone walking in and knowing that we are not on a limited time frame.”

“I know. I have _really_ been looking forward to tonight, too,” I say wrapping my arms around his waist and leaning up for another kiss.

When we break apart a few moments later I get my first look at Peeta’s home. It seems kind of odd considering that he has been to my house so many times now. I try not to think about the fact that the reason I have never been asked over before now is because his parents don’t approve of me- well, his mother doesn’t anyway. I never bring this up because I don’t want Peeta to know that it bothers me. It’s not like he could do anything to change it, and it would just cause problems between us and create one more issue he doesn’t need with his mom.

“Wow, this isn’t what I expected,” I say, glancing around. It’s really not any bigger than my house- probably smaller, in fact- but the furnishings are much nicer. The Mellark’s clearly do well for themselves with their family business. It is much homier than I expected, too. The furniture is big and looks comfortable- the type of furniture that the large men of the family can feel comfortable on- and it is decorated in neutral colors with bright pops of warm color here and there. “Your house looks like a page out of Good Housekeeping, Peeta.”

He laughs. “It probably is. My mom is big on keeping up appearances, if you hadn’t guessed,” he says as he walks toward the back of the apartment to the open kitchen to check on something in the oven. I follow him and lean on the island to watch him as he pulls out a large casserole dish. I love watching him cook almost as much as I love watching him draw. He does both of these things with such quiet competence, I find it irresistibly attractive.

As follow his talented hands as they finely chop vegetables for a salad, I unconsciously reach for my necklace. I haven’t taken it off once since Peeta gave it to me a week ago on Christmas Eve. I’m not usually into jewelry, but this piece is so simple and beautiful and I fell in love with it the moment I laid eyes on it. It is a thin gold chain strung with a pure white pearl in a claw type clasp that allows the pearl to spin free. I have gotten in the habit of holding the clasp up to my lips and rolling the pearl back and forth across them. In only a week it has become an unconscious reflex whenever I am thinking about Peeta, as though running the pearl across my lips is like a kiss from Peeta himself.

“So what are we having?” I ask as he sets plates and silverware on the island for me to begin setting the table.

“We are having baked ziti, tossed salad with parmesan dressing- my own recipe- _and,_ ” he draws out the last word as he produces a plate of buns from the stove’s warming compartment, “cheese buns.”

I smile so broadly it hurts my face. He is seriously the most amazing boyfriend. I realize for the millionth time in the past month just how lucky I am that he _actually_ finds something in me to like, because he is definitely the superior member of this couple.

Despite the fact that the food is amazing, I don’t eat much and dinner is over pretty quickly. I have to reassure Peeta repeatedly that everything tastes great, and I use the fact that I ate at the mall with Annie as an excuse for my lack of appetite. The truth is that as the night goes on I am becoming more and more nervous, to the point that my palms are sweating and my stomach is roiling.

I have no doubts about Peeta. My little episode over a month ago cured me of any lingering questions regarding my feelings. After my mom’s comments about young love, and my subsequent attempt to try to distance myself from Peeta, it became apparent that, despite the fact that I am terrified of the depth of my feelings, I am helpless to deny what exists between us. The three days away from him were horrible. It was like those days after my father’s death, after the settlement money had run out, when I existed with a constant gnawing hunger that was never quite satisfied. Except rather than hunger, what I was feeling for Peeta was longing. I am so thankful that despite how awfully I had treated him, he still wanted me somehow.

No, I don’t doubt Peeta at all. I know I want this with him. I am afraid, of course, but he always sets me at ease. In his intuitive way, he always knows just what to say, just how to react to every situation to counter my irrational fears. And even though I feel certain he would like to, he has completely avoided using the ‘L’ word, knowing how freaked out I would be if he went there. So, I guess any nerves I am experiencing are the normal girl-about-to-lose-her-virginity nerves. And I guess, in a way, there is something kind of comforting in that, in experiencing something so normal that countless other girls have experienced. But that knowledge does nothing to settle my stomach or dry my palms as Peeta and I make our way up the staircase in the back corner of the apartment… the one that leads to his bedroom.

* * *

 

The first thing I notice when I enter Peeta’s room is, of course, the bed. It is larger than mine- a queen size I think- and neatly made up with a fluffy, dark blue down comforter. The second thing I notice is a tall, narrow book case on the far wall that appears to be completely lined with sketchbooks. There must be at least a hundred of them.

I shake my hand loose from Peeta’s grip and glance at him over my shoulder with a smile as I walk to the book case. Starting with the top row I run my fingers along the thin spins and see that they are all dated and arranged in order by year. The oldest, which is in the top left corner, is dated ‘December 25, 2001.’

“What are the dates for?” I ask, noting that he has sat himself on the bed with his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle.

“I write the date on them the day I first start drawing in it,” he says.

The date is written with such neat precision on each book. I don’t think I would have ever guessed that someone so young had dated the first one. “You were only seven when you got this first one then.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. I was always drawing, so my parents got me real art supplies for Christmas one year,” he says.

I pull the first book down and begin paging through it. By comparison to the bold style that I am now very familiar with after hours spent watching him draw, it is clear that these drawings are a childish version of that method. Most of the sketches are of animals and his family. It looks as though he was repeatedly practicing drawing various people and things at different angles and positions. None of the drawings in this book are complete. I smile at him over my shoulder again, an overwhelming, tingly rush of warmth spreading through my chest.

“What?” he asks, returning my smile.

“Nothing… I just like picturing you up here as a little boy with that intensely focused look you get when you draw.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have been up here. I didn’t get this room until Rhys moved out a few years ago.”

I roll my eyes at him, letting him know that he completely missed the point. I replace the first book and reach to the bottom shelf and grab the newest book. It is labeled ‘September 7, 2013.’

“So what have you been drawing this year?” I ask as I walk over to the bed. He raises his arm and settles it over my shoulder as I clamor toward him and cuddle against his side.

This work looks familiar to me and I actually recognize several of the pictures from having been present while he was working on them. I pause for a long time when I come across the first one of me. In this drawing I am standing in the middle of a faceless crowd. This is how he saw me at the football game that night- the night that started this whole thing. He has somehow managed to make me look both fierce and vulnerable. I didn’t even know that was possible, but Peeta has captured it perfectly.

Smiling I lean up and kiss him softly, but I pull away before the kiss can get too intense. I page through a few more landscape sketches before I come across one that causes an involuntary squeak to erupt from my throat. It is one that he has clearly drawn from his imagination, because he has certainly never seen me do this in real life.

“ _Peeta!”_ I hiss as I slap my hand down over the picture of me sitting naked on a chair with my legs spread wide and my hand between them.

He laughs nervously and says, “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? I thought you were just messing with me, letting me think you did these types of pictures to freak me out. I didn’t think you _actually_ did it,” I say, lifting my hand to peak underneath.

“Are you mad?” he asks, clearly trying to repress laughter.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I answer, flipping through until I find another erotic drawing. I think this one must have been drawn from memory rather than imagination. I am looking upward at him, a piece of hair falling across my face as my tongue licks around the head of his cock. The look on my face is pure lust. I have gotten him off with my mouth several times in the last month, so I’m not exactly sure which time inspired this drawing. “Do I _actually_ look like that?”

“No,” he says simply, “you look so much hotter than I could ever possibly draw you.”

I’m sort of ashamed of how much I like hearing that. The last drawing in this pad that is sexual is another that he has imagined, because I still have not allowed him to do what this picture is depicting, despite the fact that he clearly wants to. This one is done in profile, my legs spread wide with his face buried between them. My hands are both clutching his hair hard and my face is contorted in an expression of complete ecstasy.

The moisture that began seeping at my core with the drawing of me getting myself off has spread to a ridiculous degree. On some level I think I should be outraged by these drawings, but I can’t deny the fact that they have really turned me on. Peeta is sexy whenever he is drawing, but there is something unbearably hot about imagining him drawing like this, probably working himself up as much as I am worked-up just looking at them.

I quietly close the book and stand up from the bed without a word. I am aware that his eyes are trained on me, trying to discern what reaction I am having to all of this. I lay the sketch pad on his desk which is right next to his dresser, and turn to face him. He is searching my face almost frantically, looking for some clue as to what I’m thinking. I don’t let him fret for long though, as I put my hands to the hem of my sweater and raise my arms, lifting it over my head.

Peeta sits up straighter as he gets his first glimpse at the bra I bought especially with him in mind. The transparent fabric does nothing to conceal my breasts, and I know he can see my nipples pebbling up under his attention. After a moment I move my hands to the waistband of my jeans and, unfastening them, shimmy my hips as I slid the tight denim down to expose the matching panties. I try to meet Peeta’s eyes after I have rid myself of the jeans, but he is too busy observing my body, his eyes are fixed between my legs where the see through panties leave me exposed.

“I bought them for you,” I say softly. He just nods mutely and continues to stare at my practically naked body. Getting uncomfortable with his continued silence I ask, “Did I get it right? Do you like these?”

He moves so swiftly that I’m startled and before I even know what is happening he is kneeling on the bed in front of me, one arm clutching my back and the other buried in my hair, working to loosen my braid. I start to speak again, but his lips slam into mine at that moment and whatever I intended to say is smothered between our mouths.

It only takes a moment for me to begin urgently clawing at his T-shirt, and he breaks away from me just long enough to whip it impatiently over his head. I want to take the time to admire him, to run my hands along his chest and stomach and back, but Peeta has a different idea. He adjusts his legs so that he can fall backward on the bed and pulls me with him so that I am lying on top of him. Before either of us can adjust our position we are kissing again.

After a few moments I rise up and shift my legs so that I am straddling him. I waste no time before I begin grinding against his erection, totally without shame, my body taking over to seek the relief it so desperately wants. Peeta lets me go, lets me do what feels good, and only reaches behind me to release the clasp of my bra. He has become somewhat of an expert at this in the two months we have been dating. Once he has rid me of it, he places a hand on my back to urge me to lean forward and I do, grinding against him the whole time, letting the ridge of denim over his zipper rub my clit against the hardness of his erection. I know why he wants me to lean forward and I give in to him, hovering my breasts over his face so that he can take a nipple into his mouth. It only takes another minute or so of this treatment before I am frantically gasping his name as the pleasure builds to a pitch and I effortlessly hit the peak, moaning deeply in the back of my throat as I come. The thin panties do nothing to stem the flow of moisture from my orgasm and I end up soaking the front of his pants where I am still pressed tightly against him.

I slump over onto Peeta’s chest, and he rubs my back sweetly as the last tremors of pleasure run through my body, and I attempt to regulate my breathing. Before too long I lean up to kiss him, relishing in the taste of his tongue against mine. When I pull away it is only to lean over to whisper in his ear, “Peeta, I want you.”

His breathing is somewhat ragged as he returns, “I want you too, baby.”

I lean up again and look into his eyes, the most vibrant blue I have ever seen, so full of lust and an emotion so much deeper that I am still loathe to name. “Tonight, I mean. I want you tonight. I want to _really_ be with you tonight.”

His eyes are darting back and forth slightly, trying to assess the truth of my words. “Are you sure, Katniss?”

“Yes,” I say firmly, and just because I can’t seem to help myself I continue, “don’t you want to, also?”

“God, Katniss,” he gasps burying a hand in my hair to pull me down for a fierce kiss. “Of course I do. As long as it is what you want too. I know we haven’t been dating long-“

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his before he can say more. It would be a waste of breath anyway. I want him, right now… Of this I am certain. When we break away to take a breath I say, “I don’t care how long we have been together. I know this is right… and so do you.”

He nods his head and then moves quickly in what I assume is a move he learned from wrestling, holding me in place with one arm and using the other along with his legs to flip us over completely so that he is on top. He drags his lips across my face in soft kisses, moving downward much too slowly for my current state, licking down my neck, peppering soft kisses across my clavicle. When he reaches the pearl of my necklace which has fallen back into the hollow at the base of my neck, he darts his tongue out, licking underneath the pearl and drawing it into his mouth and sucking gently. I’m not exactly sure why this action causes my pelvis to jut upwards of its own accord, but I have some vague idea that it has something to do with the drawing I saw earlier… the one where his head was buried between my legs.

“Peeta,” I pant, pushing at his chest so that he lifts up. I take advantage of the space created between us and reach down for the button on his jeans.

He leans up and I let my hands drop away as I watch him open them himself. He looks down at the wet spot created by my orgasm earlier, and his mouth tilts up in a lopsided grin. “I love how wet you get everything when you come,” he says quietly. His words have the effect he had hoped for as I gasp and my hips buck up without my consent again.

He maneuvers off the bed for just a moment to shed his jeans and boxer shorts. I get only the briefest glimpse of his entirely naked body before he is crawling over me again. I make a mental note to take a good look later, when I can linger over the details.

He wastes no time in divesting me of the thin panties, and then just leans back on his knees, letting his eyes linger over my entire body. I am too far gone, my brain too muddled by lust and need, to even consider being embarrassed by his attention. But I’m too impatient and after a minute I can’t prevent the whiney tone my voice takes on as I plead with him. “ _Peeta, please.”_

He lays back down over me and kisses me softly and moves his right hand down seek out my clit. His fingers meet no resistance as he slips them down further and eases, first one, and then a second into me… I am so wet by now.

“ _Peeta,”_ I pant again. I just want him inside me, but even in my state, I am not brave enough say this outright.

“I just want to make sure you’re ready,” he says, breathing hard. He has an uncanny ability to understand what I am thinking when I can barely understand it myself. “I don’t want to hurt you, Katniss.”

“I am ready. Can’t you feel how wet I am?” I say emphatically, the whine in my voice surfacing again.

“Okay… should I get a condom?”

I shake my head impatiently, all this stalling is allowing my nerves from earlier to return. “It’s okay. I’ve been on birth control for over a month now.”

He nods again and finally meets my eyes in a direct gaze. Leaning down, he gives me a soft, sweet kiss and says, “I can’t believe this is happening. Katniss, I have wanted this for so long… I…” he trails off and doesn’t continue. I think I know what he was going to say, and I know that he stopped for my sake. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that, though.

I don’t have any time to mull it over, however, because a moment later he is asking if I am ready and positioning himself at my entrance. I am not sure what to make of it at first, it doesn’t hurt exactly, but the stretching is certainly uncomfortable. I am conscious of Peeta whispering in my ear, his voice strained, asking if I’m okay and telling me to relax. I spread my legs wide and try to focus on his face rather than on the discomfort. I find his eyes, and my distress seeps out of me, and he quickly slips in the rest of the way.

I gasp, not in pain, but in surprise. I don’t think I ever could have anticipated how this feels, not just physically, but emotionally, as well. To be totally connected with Peeta… it is indescribably good.

“Is this okay?” he asks, an edge of trepidation evident in his voice. “Do you need me to stop?”

In answer I simply move my right hand from his back to his hair and pull his head to mine for a deep kiss. “Don’t you dare stop,” I say, when we take a breath. As his mouth returns to mine he begins to move.

It only takes a few moments before his breathing is erratic and he is gasping in my ear, “God, Katniss… you feel so good… I didn’t know it would feel this good.”

I lean up and kiss him again, but he pulls away a second later. The soft groaning noises that he can’t seem to hold in excite me and I become aware of how amazing he is starting to feel inside me now that my body has grown accustom to his size. I can tell by the sudden irregularity of his movements and ragged breathing that he is going to come any second now. I know that I will not be able to finish with him, but I love knowing how good this is for him. I am proven right when he groans loudly a few minutes later and pauses while he’s still buried deep inside me.

I card my fingers through his hair and let my hands roam over the muscles of his back and reach down to cup his ass as it flexes with the final tremors of his orgasm. “I’m sorry,” he whispers a few moments later, sounding exhausted.

“Why?” I ask absently.

“Because I didn’t last long enough for you to come,” he breaths into my ear.

I laugh softly and say, “It’s okay. It was still really great. And I already did earlier-” I am surprised as my words are cut off by his mouth as he kisses me hard, thrusting his tongue past my lips and then moving on to pepper kisses across my brow, down my nose, anywhere he can reach.

“You’re so amazing,” he says, “and I know talking about feelings freaks you out… but I just… you are everything to me, Katniss.” He pauses for a long time as we just search each other’s eyes. “That’s all I’m going to say… But I needed to at least tell you that.”

I reach up again to rake my hands through his hair and pull him in for another kiss. When I pull back I say, “I know that, Peeta… I… I feel the exact same way you do.” I can tell by the pleased smile on his face that he knows exactly what I mean, and understands that I’m just not brave enough to put it into words.

We don’t speak again as he slips out of me and maneuvers to pull the comforter out from under us and drape it over me. When he crawls back into bed I curl into his side easily and drift off to sleep relishing in the feeling of his fingers sifting through my hair, the warmth of his naked skin pressed against the entire length of mine, and the oddly pleasant soreness between my legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for continuing to read! I hope you enjoyed it :D Feel free to let me know what you think!


	14. Touch Me 'Til I Follow in Love

I wake slowly, my sleep muddled mind gradually becoming aware of a familiar scratching noise that I can’t quite place. I crack my eyes open, peeking out to try to identify the source of the sound, but a light has been turned on somewhere in the room so I immediately squeeze my eyes shut again.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?” I here Peeta say softly from somewhere nearby.

I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face at the sound of his voice as it brings to mind the events of the night. Keeping my eyes closed against the light I turn my face in the direction of his voice letting him see my grin as I stretch, feeling utterly content, like a cat in the sun. I should be ashamed of how much I enjoy the delicious soreness in the muscles of my thighs and between my legs.

I hear the clicking of the lamp switch and feel the bed shift and suddenly, the sheet covering me is lifted and Peeta’s naked body is stretched along the length of mine. Cracking my lids again I find that the lamp is still on, but dimmed considerably so that I can comfortably keep my eyes open now. Peeta wraps his right arm over me and pulls me against him so tightly that it almost hurts. I’m not complaining.

He buries his face in my hair inhaling deeply before moving his face to my neck, letting his lips rest against my skin as he mumbles, “Are you okay?”

I crane my head back and he lifts his to answer my silent plea for a kiss. When we pause for breath I whisper, “ _I’m amazing…”_

“Yes, you are,” he responds firmly before capturing my mouth again.

I enjoy his kiss for as long as I can- feeling the silk of his tongue slide against mine, the gentle suction of his lips- before my neck begins to protest against the odd angle of straining backwards toward him. When I pull away and lay my head back down, his left arm is there to act as my pillow and he pulls me against him again, resting his right arm snuggly under my breast.

“What time is it?” I ask after a few quiet moments of lying still, listening to our breathing.

“Almost five,” he says, muttering into my neck again.

“Why are you up so early?”

He chuckles softly and simply says, “Baker.”

“What time do you have to open the bakery?” I ask, knowing that he will be manning the bakery himself this morning since his parents are out of town.

“We don’t open till eight on Saturdays, so I don’t need to get down there till six. My dad made sure everything was prepped for me when he closed yesterday before they left.”

We lay quietly for a while before I break the silence again. “What were you doing earlier?”

“Drawing,” he says simply.

“What were you drawing?” I ask, pretty sure I already know the answer.

“You.”

“Can I see?”

He leans away from me and I role over so that I am on my back while he reaches to grab the sketch pad I was looking at earlier. He shuffles to one of the back pages and then turns it toward me. I’m not sure why, but I am slightly surprised by this picture. I guess it is partly because I wasn’t expecting something so innocent considering what we were doing a few hours ago. But also, I think I am surprised at getting a glimpse of myself through his eyes. I take the sketch pad from him so that I can examine the unfinished drawing more closely. He was clearly drawing me sleeping as he observed me just a few moments ago, but I somehow doubt that I actually look like he has shown me in this picture. My hair is a wild tangle around my face and I am naked except for the sheet that is wrapping me modestly. But the way he has depicted my face is what I am skeptical about. I look so peaceful and innocent, no trace of my trademark scowl in sight. Granted, Peeta probably sees that scowl much less frequently than anybody else. Still, I feel like he has made me more beautiful than I actually am… and this kind of bothers me.

He must see consternation written on my face because he touches that pad to turn it enough that he can see it again and says, “What? What’s the matter?”

It takes me a little while to answer as I try to decide how to say it without sounding childish, or like I am criticizing his work. “It’s just… Why do you always draw me so much prettier than I actually am?” His only response is a baffled stare. “I mean, they’re beautiful- amazing actually- but… if you’re not drawing me how I really look, it’s like you might as well be drawing some other girl.”

Peeta just stares at me for a while before he shakes his head and looks away, muttering. I can’t hear what he says, but he seems totally bewildered by my words. I am beginning to regret saying anything, humiliation rising up from the pit of my stomach. In an effort to escape I mutter something about needing the restroom and start to shift away from him, but before I can move two inches he has laid his arm across my torso to halt me.

“Katniss, listen to me,” he says in a tone that brooks no argument. “I don’t know why you have such a negative image of yourself, but the thought of drawing you any way other than as _really are_ has never even crossed my mind. I mean, yeah I’ve sketched out a few of my fantasies, but I have never tried to make you prettier. I don’t even think that would be possible.” He touches my chin to turn my face toward him and the look of vulnerability and sincerity I see in his eyes causes that pleasant swooping sensation in my belly that I have become so familiar with these past two months. “I don’t know what you see when you look in the mirror,” he continues, “but based on what I see when I look at you, I don’t think any of my drawings even begin to do you justice.”

I don’t even try to respond with words- they never seem to work for me the way they do for him, anyway. I am much better at expressing myself through actions, so I prop myself up on my right elbow and bury my left hand in his hair as I pull him down for a kiss. He barely has a moment to register what is happening before I sink my tongue into his mouth and, using his surprise to my advantage, push him onto his back without ever breaking the kiss. It only takes him a moment to get with the program, and in seconds he is running his hands along my back and waist, pushing the tangled sheet away so from us. Once we are free of it I break away from him just long enough to rise up on my knees and straddle him across his torso. He groans loudly as I sink down again, and I know that it is because he can feel how wet I am against his abdominal muscles.

I gyrate my hips against him and grin wickedly when I am rewarded with another groan. “God, fuck, Katniss,” he pants, squeezing his eyes shut and pushing his head back into the mattress as though in pain.

I lean forward, letting my hair fall in a curtain around us and place my hands on either side of his face as I kiss him again, more gently this time. After a few moments I pull away and rest my forehead against his as we take a moment to catch our breath. I feel his hands slowly tracing up my thighs, gooseflesh springing up on my skin in their wake, and I can’t stop the moan that erupts from my throat as I feel them sneak around my waist to flex into the muscles of my ass.

Rising up to look at him I grin and say, “You are definitely an ass man aren’t you, Mellark?”

He huffs out a brief laugh and answers, “It’s not my fault. Your ass is perfect… and you torture me with those tight jeans you are always parading around in.” Before I even have a chance to respond he has used his grip on me to hold me in place as he rolls us over so that he is on top. “I _really_ wish I could be inside you again right now,” he whispers into the skin of my shoulder as he drags his lips along my collar bone.

“Isn’t that what we are doing here?” I ask in confusion, laughing slightly.

“Katniss,” he implores sighing loudly, “there is no way that is what we are doing here. I hated hurting you the first time but I could kind of accept it because I knew there wasn’t any way around it. But there is no way I’m doing that again until I am sure it won’t hurt you.”

 _“Peeta, I’m fine,”_ I say emphatically, unreasonably disappointed. “And you didn’t _hurt me_. It was just a little uncomfortable at first…”

He glances away and mutters somewhat petulantly, “Well, ‘uncomfortable’ is not okay with me. We have plenty of time, Katniss. I can wait.”

I scoff, unable to contain my rising annoyance. “What if _I_ can’t wait?”

The corners of his mouth tip up slightly and he looks like he is trying to stifle laughter, “Poor, Katniss… Let me see… what can I do to help you out here?” I roll my eyes and make a half-hearted attempt to push at his chest, irritated that he is making fun of my frustration, but of course I can’t move him. He laughs softly and says, “I’m sorry, but you have to understand what this moment is like for me… I’ve just had sex with the girl I’ve been obsessed with _basically_ forever, and now she wants to do it again enough that she is actually kind of pissed when I say no… This is a pretty big moment for me.”

I want to hold on to my irritation, but his sexy, lopsided grin is irresistible. I am trying hard to keep my scowl in place as I say, “Well, have it your way then. It’s a lot harder for you to stop than it is for me.”

“Who said anything about stopping?” he asks, his smile slipping slightly. “We’ve been doing just fine for the last two months…”

I snort, loving the flirtatious banter. “So you are going to tell me no, and then expect me to get you off?” I ask, smiling triumphantly.

“No, actually. I was hoping you would let _me_ get _you_ off,” he responds immediately, looking much more serious and holding my gaze intently.

The smile slips off my face as his meaning registers. I’m not sure how I feel about this suggestion. On one hand, I am still really hesitant for this, still afraid of the intimacy of it. But on the other, I have to admit that remembering Peeta’s drawing of him with his head between my legs really excites me. And when I think of the way he licked and sucked on the pearl charm on my necklace earlier… Yeah, that definitely heightens the ache down below.

But what really decides me is the look in Peeta’s eyes. He looks excited and vulnerable all at once, like a little boy asking for a new toy. When it comes down to it, I just don’t want to tell him no. I don’t know why he wants to do this so badly, but if it will make him happy, I’ll allow it.

“Okay,” I whisper so softly, glancing away shyly.

“Okay?” he seeks confirmation, sounding surprised.

Laughing, I look back at him and say, “ _Okay._ If it will make you that happy… I’ll let you.”

His sexy grin is back in place, “Are you sure? Because if you are really uncomfortable-”

I silence him with my lips because I don’t want an out… I don’t want a chance to chicken out of this. He groans a little and responds to my kiss with gusto, sweeping his tongue inside my mouth. He is holding his weight off of me by leaning on his left elbow, but his right hand is free to coast along my side and up to my breast. He kneads it softly for a moment before pulling away from my mouth to refocus his attention on my breast. I gasp and arch my back involuntarily, my hips gyrating wildly. I press upward so that my center makes contact with his leg, which is braced on the bed between both of mine. The pressure offers some relief so I do it again, harder this time, a soft moan escaping my lips.

Peeta gasps as he jerks away from my breast, the action causing an embarrassing popping noise as my nipple slips past his lips. “Fuck, you’re going to kill me, Katniss,” he groans, taking my lips in another hard kiss as I continue to rub myself against his leg.

I am so turned on that, by the time he starts to slide down the bed, I can feel nothing except relief at the prospect of him directing his efforts on the place that I need him most. He kisses his way down my body way too slowly for the state that I am in, pausing at my breasts for a moment and then again at my belly button. By the time his face is hovering between my legs I am gasping, desperate for whatever he is willing to give me.

I have my head turned to the side, my eyes squeezed shut when I feel his first tentative lick through my wet folds. At first he is concentrating his attention downward- more toward my entrance- and I am just starting to think that feels pretty nice, when moves upward and flicks against my clit.

 _Holy shit!_ My head slams back into the mattress and my hips buck up pushing myself into Peeta’s face. I am vaguely aware of him muttering something I can’t comprehend as he rests one arm across my abdomen to hold me in place before he goes back for more. I am lost to all coherent thought as I feel him working on me again, alternating between a fast flicking motion and soft suction. It takes a great deal of effort, but I raise my head to look at him, unable to resist the urge to watch him pleasuring me the same way he does when I am getting him off.

God, it is so fucking hot… He is using his left arm wrapped around my right leg and across my pelvis to hold my hips still. His left hand is stretched downward, two fingers spreading me right where his mouth is latched on. I don’t have the strength to hold my head up for long, but I bring my hands down to bury them into his hair, somehow needing to feel even more connected with him despite the fact that he is doing the most intimate thing I have ever had done to me. He hums in approval at my action and I think I might just die from how good it feels.

I gasp loudly and then can’t seem to stop, my erratic breathing broken by moans and pants. When I feel him slip two fingers inside me and increase the sucking pressure on my clit at the same time, I can’t even begin to repress my loud reaction. “ _Peeta! Oh… oh… fuck, Peeta!”_ And then I am coming, every muscle in my body seizing in delicious pleasure, an abundance of moisture soaking Peeta’s hand where he still has his fingers buried inside me. As the intensity of my orgasm begins to subside, I become aware of the fact that Peeta is still gently licking at my center coaxing a few final tremors from me, and that my hands are clenched tightly in his hair, pulling in a way that must hurt him at least a little.

“Oh my god…” I rasp, slowly stretching my fingers to release their grip on his hair. He raises his head enough to look at me, showing me his satisfied grin. I hold his gaze and sift my fingers through his soft curls lovingly, attempting to soothe his scalp where I pulled his hair.

After a moment he levers himself upward, hovering near my face but hesitating to kiss me. A shiver of excitement courses through me when I can see that his lips and chin are wet from my arousal. I reach up to the side of his face to guide it down to mine for a kiss, and it takes him a moment to respond, clearly caught off guard by my willingness to kiss him. It is a very odd sensation, tasting myself on his lips and tongue, but it is not unpleasant. Somehow it just seems like a natural extension of the act we have just shared.

Peeta breaks the kiss before I would like, but I understand when he chuckles softly and brings his hand up to massage his square jaw. I blush and erupt into a fit of giggles. After a moment he flops down on his back on the bed and I roll to face him.

“You can do that again anytime,” I say, planting a soft kiss on his right pectoral muscle. “I mean, once your jaw recovers.”

“It’s alright- my jaw can handle it,” he laughs, pushing himself to a sitting position with great effort. “Come on,” he says standing up and reaching a hand toward me. “Let’s go take a shower. We have a bakery to open.”

I groan inwardly, wanting nothing more than to curl up and fall back asleep. But when I look back up at him I see his erection, unashamedly on display. This, more than anything, convinces me to rise. He still hasn’t gotten off yet… I need to remedy that.


	15. Sometimes I Hate the Line I Walk

I jolt awake at the sound of loud pounding on my door accompanied by my mother’s shrill scream from the other side. “Peeta! Are you not even out of bed yet?! Get off your lazy ass and get to school!”

I am disoriented for a second while I try to make sense of my surroundings. My mom never wakes me up. She isn’t even usually here when I’m getting ready for school because she runs the storefront in the mornings while my dad is busy baking in the back. In addition to the slamming against the door and her unpleasant voice, the alarm on my phone is blaring and I can’t find the damn thing amid the tangle of my sheets.

Being bombarded by this cacophony of noise immediately upon waking has set my nerves on edge and I finally snap. “I’m up! Fuck! Give me a minute!”

My mom goes silent instantly and I am able to isolate the incessant beeping of my phone so I can locate and silence it. I roll over and groan into my pillow. This is going to be bad. Not only did my mom just happen to be home on the first morning I’ve overslept in a _long time_ , but now I have raised my voice and cursed at her. She is not the kind of woman to tolerate that.

Looking at my phone I am surprised to see that I slept through the alarm for nearly an hour. I bolt out of bed and, grabbing the first pair of jeans and shirt I can find, race down the stairs and into the bathroom. School starts in twenty minutes so I barely have time to brush my teeth and throw on some deodorant. I wet my hands and run them though my hair, trying haphazardly to tame my curls as I rush through the house trying to locate my shoes and school bag.

I don’t even notice my mom sitting silently on a stool at the kitchen island until I hear her speak quietly. “You were out late. I assume you were with that… _girl,”_ she says and her voice is laced with disdain. She may have said ‘girl,’ but it is clear that she wanted to use a much nastier term.

I sigh loudly and try to remain calm. I don’t have time to fight with my mom and I learned long ago that nothing good ever comes from it anyway. “She has a name, mom. It’s _Katniss._ It’s not like saying her name is a dirty word.” My mom raises her eyebrows dramatically, as though she thinks that is exactly what Katniss’ name is, and my temper spikes. “And, you know what? Yeah, I _was_ out late with _Katniss._ But I’m 18 years-old. Don’t you think it’s about time I get to decide how I spend my time and who I get to spend it with?”

“No, Peeta, I don’t!” she says, raising her voice. “That _girl_ is having a bad influence on you and I don’t like it. You’re out all hours of the day and night, you threw poor Madge over like she meant nothing… and I know you had that little slut in my house while your father and I were-“

“Enough!” I yell, slamming my hand on the table near where I stand. “Don’t call her that! You don’t know a damn thing about Katniss. You don’t know about _anything_ in my life!”

She narrows her eyes and purses her lips, breathing in sharply. I see her open one of the island drawers and I worry that she is searching for the wooden spatula; her wielding this particular utensil at me is not out of the realm of possibility, although she hasn’t for several years. I experience a fleeting moment of relief when all she produces is a manila envelope, until I see the logo emblazoned on the upper left corner. “I know about _this_ ,” she says softly.

It is from Johnson & Wales University and the return address clearly indicates “College of Culinary Arts.” I applied to a couple of culinary programs, but I’ve actually been kind of leaning towards this one since it would mean I would only be a couple of hours from Katniss. Judging by the fact that they sent a thick envelope rather than a simple letter, I think it is probably an acceptance letter. Of course, I can’t bring myself to feel the excitement I should feel with my mother glaring at me, waiting for an explanation.

“Don’t you even have anything to say for yourself?” she finally asks when it is clear I’m not going to say anything. “I can’t help but think that girl has something to do with this. You would have never considered something so irresponsible before she exercised her influence on you.”

“What do you want me to say?” I answer in exasperation. “I applied to a few culinary schools… It is something I might be interested in pursuing and I wanted to see what my options are. And, I’m sorry, but yeah, Katniss fully supports me in this. She wants me to do what makes me happy. Why should I base my whole future on what _you_ want? Out of some sick sense of obligation?”

My mom just stares at me for a long time. I almost never talk back to her or bother to defend myself, knowing it will just make things worse in the long run. When she finally speaks her voice is thick with contempt and disappointment. “Your father and I have worked ourselves into the ground to provide for you, to secure your future. You have never wanted for anything in your entire life, Peeta. I have pushed you to succeed so that you would have the best possible opportunities in the palm of your hand.” She walks over to where I am standing by the small kitchen table and throws the envelope at my feet as though it is garbage and continues to walk to the staircase that leads down to the bakery.

She pauses for a moment in the threshold before she begins descending and turns back to me again. “Do what you want, Peeta- I’m sure you will anyway. But before you throw away a top-notch, _Ivy League_ education, think about all the sacrifices this family has made for you. Think about Rhys supporting his family by doing menial manual labor. Think of Rhian, putting his life on the line and serving overseas hoping to come out with a prospect half as good as the one you seem willing to throw away. Don’t you think they would have liked to have gone to college? To have it paid for? That wasn’t an option for them because we couldn’t send you all. They gave up there place because you showed so much potential. _Wasted_ potential it seems.” She lets this all sink in for a moment. “And also consider that while you are off gallivanting across the county with your Seam trash, your father is toiling in front of blistering hot ovens, working his muscles to the edge of endurance for 14 hours a day… _For you_.”

I can’t meet her eyes. I don’t want to look at her and see if there is any truth in her words. I don’t want to believe in the possibility that my brothers didn’t just choose not to go to college, but that they sacrificed the chance to go so that my parents could save for me. I know that there is some truth to her words, at least where my dad is concerned.

“I know that girl probably seems exciting and alluring to you. I have seen how girls like her work, how they hook their tentacles into men and lure them in. But before you make any decisions, I want you to think very hard about how ungrateful you are being, and decide just how much your conscience can endure. And you’re a fool if you think for a moment that she would sacrifice _her_ _own_ opportunities for _you_.”

I drop in the dining chair after she turns and leaves before I can even formulate a response. I know my mom well enough to know how she operates. She is a manipulative bitch, but her words have unsettled me. If what she says is true, than I really am an ungrateful little shit.

I lean down and retrieve the envelope at my feet. The first page is a typed form letter that begins “Dear Mr. Mellark: Please allow us to congratulate you on your acceptance to the prestigious College of Culinary Arts at Johnson & Wales University…”

* * *

 

My shitty morning is quickly turning into an unbearably shitty day. I’m a half hour late for my first period PE class so, in addition to Coach Boggs riding my ass about it, I have to run extra laps, which is excruciating since I’m running on 4 hours of sleep.

Katniss and I went to a movie in Asheville last night and didn’t get back to Meadowglen until after midnight. We sat in her driveway, intermittently talking and making-out for at least an hour before I finally gave up on the hope that Katniss would consent to anything _beyond_ making-out as long as we were in my car. It was well after 3am by the time I arrived home, showered- and… _relieved_ myself- and finally gotten to bed.

Sleeping with Katniss for the first time on New Years was, without a doubt, the most amazing experience of my life so far. But, as much as I love spending time with her no matter what we are doing, the two completely sexless weeks that followed have definitely left me feeling… _frustrated._ I know Katniss feels the same way, but her refusal to do anything anywhere other than in a bed, in a room with a locked door, has left us bereft of opportunities to be together.

By the time I am heading to second period I still cannot shake the uneasy feeling from my fight with my mom. I know she is crazy and that she has no qualms about lying and manipulating to get her way- or even just to make people feel like shit for her own amusement- but the more I think about it, I begin to recall stuff that I haven’t thought about in a long time. Like Rhys talking about wanting to be a veterinarian when we were growing up, and Rhian attending a wrestling camp his junior year because he thought it would increase his chances of getting an athletic scholarship. What happened to those plans? I never thought much about it, but it seems weird that they would just vanish from my brothers’ plans for no reason.

I have a few minutes before second period so I decide to text Rhys. _Hey I wanna ask you something. Did you ever have any plans to go to college before you moved to Asheville?_

My teacher has just entered the class when my text tone goes off with Rhys’ reply. She cuts me a sharp look, but the bell hasn’t rang yet so I go ahead and read it and respond.

_R: That’s random. Why do you ask?_

_P: mom and I got into a fight this morning and she spouted a bunch of shit about how you and rhian couldn’t go to school so that I could go_

_R: What were you fighting about?_

_P: I applied to a couple of culinary schools. She found an acceptance letter for one_

_P: plus she doesn’t like my girlfriend and thinks she can use this as an excuse to be a bitch about that too_

_R: I thought you were all set up with UPENN?_

_P: …. I don’t know if I want to go to upenn_

The bell rings and I really need to put away my phone, but Rhys still hasn’t answered my question about him and Rhian. I flip the switch on the side so that my phone is silenced and tap out another text.

_P: so is she telling the truth? Did you and rhian give up school so I could go to upenn?_

_R: look, Peet, I wouldn’t think too much about this, but mom isn’t exactly lying about that. Can I call you?_

I stare at my phone in disbelief as I feel the color drain from my face. This can’t be right. How could they be so stupid? I never wanted this. Nobody ever even _asked me_ what I wanted, and here is everybody making life altering decisions on my behalf without even consulting me?!

My hands feel unsteady as I type my response. _No I’m at school. I’ll call you later_

I have just hit send when I hear my teacher’s gravelly voice. “Mr. Mellark. I am sure that whatever you are _texting_ is of grave importance, but I am equally sure it is likely to hold just fine until after school.”

When I look up at her she is holding her hand out expectantly. _Fuck._ I know Mrs. Paylor is a total hard ass about this shit. I sigh loudly and walk up to the front of the class and place my phone in her outstretched palm.

“Thank you,” she says as I sulk back and slump into my seat. “You may retrieve it from the office at the end of the day. And I hope you have a passcode set up on it. I have heard that Principle Coin finds scrolling through students’ texts and pictures to be particularly entertaining.”

I know she is just fucking with me, but I still breathe a little sigh of relief that I do use a passcode. I sent a few pictures to Katniss the other night that I don’t remember deleting.

* * *

 

As I walk into the lunch room a few hours later I can’t decide what is making me feel worse the exhaustion from my lack of sleep, the hunger from not having eaten yet today, the guilt from my texts with Rhys, or the anger coursing through me for both my mom and Mrs. Paylor. Oh, and let’s not forget disappointment with myself for bombing the pop quiz Mr. Latier gave in third period. It was on the chapter we were supposed to read last night, which I, of course, did not do because I was out with Katniss.

I spot Finnick and Annie at a table in the corner and begin making my way over. They are sitting so close I don’t think I don’t think a flea could squeeze between them. I would normally smirk and make some teasing comment about their whole ‘just friends’ thing, but I am in such a shitty mood that I just set my tray down and dig in without acknowledging them. They are so wrapped up in their whispered conversation that I don’t think they even realize I am here, which just serves to piss me off further.

I have barely swallowed my first bite of the cafeteria’s runny instant potatoes when I hear someone speak behind me in a voice I recognize, but am not used to hearing sound so unsure and tentative. “Um, Peeta… Could I talk to you for a second?”

I glance over my shoulder at Madge and try really hard to repress my exasperated sigh. “I’m pretty hungry Madge. Is there any way it can wait till later?”

“It’s kind of important,” she returns. “I tried texting you, but you didn’t answer.”                                            

“Yeah, I got my phone confiscated this morning.” Madge doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t go away either so sigh in resignation and use my right foot to push a chair out for her.

She glances at the chair and then back at me before speaking again, “It is kind of private.”

I look longingly at my food one last time before pushing away from the table. Finnick catches my eye with a questioning look but I just roll my eyes at him and turn to follow Madge toward the doors leading out to the patio where extra tables are set up in nice weather. It is empty now since it is only averaging about 40 degrees outside this time of year, so I guess she is serious about not being overheard.

I have barely thought about Madge since we broke up over three months ago. I have been so wrapped up in Katniss that I find it hard to believe it has been such a short period of time. Everything before Katniss feels like a lifetime ago. I am noticing for the first time that Madge does not look at all like her normal well-dressed, put together self. She still looks really pretty, but I can tell she has put on some weight. Not unexpected after the holidays I guess, but Madge has always been such a nut about staying in shape, even in the off season. And I am astonished to see that she is wearing yoga pants and a baggy sweater. I never in a million years would have expected someone like Madge to go anywhere in public in comfy clothes.

She leads the way to a raised flowerbed that rests barren and snow dusted, and sits herself on cement ledge, shivering already. I remain standing looking down at her expectantly, my patience wearing thin as the cold breeze seeps through my thin shirt.

She meets my gaze briefly before her eyes flit away again and my restraint snaps again for what seems like the millionth time in one day. “Jesus, Madge. What is it? I’m fucking freezing.”

I can tell she is astonished to hear me being so short with her as she swings back toward me. I see that she is pretty shaken up and I immediately feel like a giant dick. I sit pushing down my impatience and sit next to her picking at a fraying rip in my jeans and wait for her to get up the gumption to speak. Out of the corner of my eye I can see her throat working as though she is trying to swallow a lump in her throat.

It takes her I long time to speak, and when she does her voice is read thin and strained as though she will start crying at any moment. “Peeta, I have to tell you something, but I know it is going to make you hate me.”

I finally relent and place my arm around her shoulders, drawing her shivering body into my side. “I don’t think you could tell me anything that would make me hate you, but if you are worried you should just say it quick. Like ripping off a band aid.”

After a moment she takes a deep breath and says, “I’m pregnant. I have been since July. I’ve known since August.”

 _Holy shit._ That is not what I was expecting. I don’t respond as I let all of the implications of this sink in. She has been pregnant since July? What the fuck? She was pregnant when we got together. Suddenly I remember the night we got together, when she climbed into my lap out of nowhere and started kissing me. She had been muttering about how I was a nice guy and she needed to be with a nice guy.

 _Holy shit!_ She got with me _because_ she was pregnant?! Madge started dating me _specifically_ because she was pregnant. Things that always seemed odd start flowing into my mind and this new piece of information starts to make a lot of things make sense. How determined she was to make things work between us even though it was clear that our feelings were platonic on both sides, her pushing the issue that we should have sex at Finnick’s party in September, her missing so much school the following week…

I can’t hide the appalled look on my face as it hits me that she was going to try to sleep with me so that she could say her baby was mine. I take my arm from around her shoulders and Madge buries her face in her hands. Her shoulders start shaking and I am torn between the urge to comfort someone in distress and the rage I feel that she could even consider doing something like this to me.

She starts muttering into her hands and I can barely understand what she is saying. I do make out the word ‘Katniss’ though.

“What?” I ask. She looks up confused so I clarify, “What did you say about Katniss?”

She stammers for a moment before she can get it out. “I… I just… I thought Katniss might have told you. The rumors are going around now, and I wanted you to hear it from me, but I _honestly_ thought that Katniss would have said something to you about all of it…”

“What does Katniss have to do with anything?” I ask, my voice rising.

“She… nothing, um. No,” she falters, her eyes moving back and forth frantically as though she is trying to think quickly what she should say next.

“Madge,” I say, my voice dropping to a deadly calm. “You are freaking me out now. Just tell me what Katniss has to do with any of this.”

Her eyes still and she buries her face in her hands again. But this time when she mutters into them I can hear what she says clearly. “She knew. She is the one who told Gale. Katniss is the first person I told.”

Katniss _knew_. Well, I guess now I know what happened between her and Gale the night we all had dinner at Katniss’ house. She must have told him and that is why he stormed out like an asshole. Katniss knew that my ex-girlfriend was going to try to pin a pregnancy on me. And she never bothered to say a word about it.

* * *

 

I hear the final bell ring and I truly could not be any happier to have this god awful day be over. I make my way to my locker ruminating on the tremendous raft of shit that has been heaped on me in a matter of eight short hours. My head is pounding and my stomach is turning, all from the combination of bad news, warring emotions, and a lack of sleep and food.

I have my book bag propped in my locker and am shoving books and binders into it when I feel two small hands slip over my torso and a slight body pressing against me, hugging me from behind. My muscles instinctively relax at her presence and I lean back into the hug, closing my eyes and savoring her touch. I only allow myself the briefest moment of pleasure though, before I lean away from her again and resume filling my bag.

“Is everything okay?” Katniss asks, clearly perceiving that something is amiss.

I am sure she was expecting me to turn and kiss her as I normally would. And even despite the fact that I am pissed about the whole Madge thing, I want to. _I really want to._ But I won’t just ignore this and pretend it didn’t happen. I can’t help but feel a little betrayed by the fact that Katniss has been keeping something so important from me the entire time we have been together.

I squirm out from her arms and close my locker, turning to walk toward the main office. “It has been a colossally shitty day. I just want to go home and forget every single thing that has happened today.”

She wraps her right arm through my left falling into step beside me and I can see her upturned faced etched with concern out of the corner of my eye, but I still don’t turn to look at her. “Do you want to talk about it?” I shake my head slightly and she presses on. “Peeta, please. You know you can tell me whatever is wrong. You’ll feel better once you get it off your chest.”

She is giving me a cute little smile that is at odds with the worry in her eyes and it almost breaks me. I _wish_ I could tell her everything. I can’t tell her about the fight with my mom without opening up a whole can of worms. And I can’t tell her about my conversation with Rhys, because then I would have to admit that there is no chance in hell that I am going anywhere other than UPENN after finding out all of that shit. But I _can_ tell her about Madge. And I have to, because the more I think about it, the more pissed I become.

I stop abruptly and finally turn to look at her. “Why didn’t you tell me about Madge?”

Her concerned expression falls as she registers my question and a guilty flush raises rapidly up her neck and into her face. “Wh- what?” she stumbles.

“Madge. You’ve known since before we were together that my ex-girlfriend is pregnant and was planning on pinning the baby on me, and you never thought to _mention it to me?_ ” I say sharply.

She recovers quickly and it’s like I can see all of her defensives go up. “It wasn’t my secret to tell, Peeta,” she says quietly.

“You had no problem telling Gale Hawthorne.”

“That he was going to be a dad? Yeah. I told him. It’s not exactly the same thing though, is it? Besides, I didn’t even know he was involved when I told him,” she returns, anger rising.

“Yeah, what was I thinking? I am about to become the laughing stock of the fucking school, but that wasn’t really that important to clue me in on was it. Never mind the fact that half the people in this school will think that I knocked Madge up and then dumped her to move on to you. Why would I need to be prepared for that?” I know my face must be red now and we are beginning to attract attention so I turn and begin walking again.

She stands there stunned at first, but I feel her presence behind me again after a moment. When I get to the office she reaches out and grabs my arm to still me before I can go in. “Peeta, please talk to me. I didn’t even think about all that.”

I look down at her again and I want so badly to tell her that I am okay and we can just forget about it. But I am exhausted and so much shit has happened today that I can’t even begin to process it all. I settle on telling her, “Look… this has been such an unbelievably bad day. I just need to be alone for a bit to figure it out, okay?”

She looks so sad when I say this that I instantly feel like I’m about 3 inches tall. I am tempted to tell her to just forget it and that everything is fine and that I will get over it, but before I can say anything she just nods her head and with a murmured ‘okay’ she turns and walks down the hall.

I am just on the verge of following her when the office door opens and knocks into me. The secretary is standing there holding my phone. “Mr. Mellark, I have this for you, but Principal Coin would like a word with you first.”

I sigh loudly, watching Katniss disappear down the hall and, nodding, turn to follow the secretary. Once I am seated in Principal Coin’s office I begin to feel somewhat nervous. The only reason I can think that I am here is because of the phone situation. But surely that is not worthy of the principal’s involvement. Is it possible they figured out my passcode and _did_ find pictures on there? That would just be a lovely end to this horrific day, to know that the high school principal and all of the office staff have seen selfies I took in the mirror of me stroking my dick.

Principal Coin is staring me down over her steepled fingers and I can’t help but fidget nervously in my chair. She is a very severe looking woman, with sharp features and gray hair combed and cut so straight that it seems like it couldn’t possibly be real. I am just contemplating the possibility that her hairdresser breaks out a slide rule to cut it when she finally speaks. “You needn’t look so nervous Mr. Mellark, you are not here because you are in trouble.”

My eyes snap to hers in surprise. “I’m not?” I ask stupidly.

She shakes her head and says, “No. Although, I do think you should apologize to Mrs. Paylor for the rudeness you demonstrated in her class today, but it is hardly the sort of thing I think I need to concern myself with.”

“Um, yeah. I will. Apologize I mean,” I mutter, relieved but still confused.

“Good,” she says simply and leans back in her chair. “Well, then, I won’t take up any more of your time. I just wanted to offer you my personal congratulations, Peeta. After a great deal of consideration- and, I will admit, debate- a committee lead by myself and populated by the faculty and staff of Meadowglen High School have selected you for the honor of serving as Valedictorian of the Class of 2014.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a broken record, I know... But thank you so much for reading!! I really appreciate it :D


	16. Wrong Until You Make it Right

I’m not sure how long I have been staring at the same patch of damp earth when I am startled out of my dark thoughts by the feel of warm fingers tickling the back of my neck. I jump, instinctively grabbing my bow when I hear the familiar chuckle of the only person who could have possibly stalked up behind me so silently.

“Dammit, Gale!”

He laughs. “Wow, you must have really been out of it. You’re not usually so easy to sneak up on.” I scoot over to make room for him on the large rock where we always used to meet, back when we actually had time to hunt together. He leans over and gently bumps my shoulder with his. “What’s up, Catnip? Prim said you seemed pretty upset when you came out here.”

I sigh loudly, reluctant to tell him about the situation given Madge’s involvement. And Gale has never really said anything particularly bad about Peeta, but I still think he is not exactly his biggest fan.

“You and Peeta get into a fight or something?” he finally asks.

“Sort of,” I answer. “He’s mad at me.”

“What’d you do?” Gale returns immediately.

“Why do you assume _I_ did something? Maybe he’s just being a jerk,” I mutter petulantly.

Gale snorts a laugh at this. “Yeah, because Mr. Perfect Goldenboy is known for being such a jerk.”

“You’re _my_ friend, you know. Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” I snap.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “I am. I’m always on your side. And if he _is_ being a jerk I’ll go down to that bakery right now… Having said that, I somehow think you are the temperamental one in the relationship.”

I try to repress the smile that I feel twitching at the corners of my mouth. Gale came out here to check on me and my snapping at him just proves what he is saying. “Yeah, well I don’t think _anyone_ would dispute that fact that Peeta has gotten the short end of the stick in this relationship,” I whine.

“Not true. I don’t think that. I think he is one hell of a lucky guy.” Gale puts an arm around my shoulders and gives me a friendly squeeze. “And I _know_ that he doesn’t think that either. It is pretty obvious that he thinks the sun shines out of your ass. So, whatever the problem is, I’m sure he’ll be over here tonight begging for forgiveness for even hinting that you are anything less than perfect.” I roll my eyes at him. “Buuut… Since you and I both know you’re _not_ perfect, it might be nice if you apologized to him first if you really have a reason to.”

I use the corner of my bow to begin drawing patterns in the dirt at our feet, refusing to acknowledge the truth in his words. But there is truth there. I hate the thought of Peeta being mad at me for any reason, but the worst part is that I know that his anger is justifiable.

“So, what happened, Catnip?”  Gale finally prompts when it is clear I’m not going to offer up any information voluntarily.

I take a deep, exasperated breath, torn between annoyance with his persistence and the desire to actually confide in my best friend. “Madge told him today… about the pregnancy,” I tell him reluctantly. “And she also told him that I knew. He seemed to think that I should have told him, I guess.”

I feel Gale tense up next to me. I know that things between him and Madge are not where he wants them to be and even mentioning it seems to be a touchy subject. But his words surprise me when he finally does speak. “You probably should have.”

I huff out in exasperation. “I thought not telling anyone was the right thing to do. It was Madge’s secret. How was it my place to tell people?”

“You told me.”

“I was _trying_ to look out for you! I didn’t know you were the one who knocked her up, if you’ll recall.” I grab his hand where it is still draped on my left shoulder and throw it off in childish display of temper.

“Hey, settle down,” he says nudging my shoulder with his again. “I’m _glad_ you told me, but think about this from his perspective. It is really admirable that you were trying to protect Madge, but this situation is pretty fucked up for Peeta. I mean, people will probably assume the baby is his, since Madge seems to have some deep aversion to admitting the truth.” He can’t hide the bitterness in his tone at this. “And even after they do know the truth it still doesn’t look much better for him to be the guy she was trying to dupe into responsibility for a kid that’s not his.”

I don’t respond for a while. He’s right, of course. “Well, Madge is the one who has been unfair to him, not me. She’s been _really_ unfair to both of you.”

Gale nods. “Yeah, you don’t need to tell me that.” We are both quiet for a moment and it is Gale who breaks the silence. “But the thing is, Peeta probably feels like you should be more concerned with looking out for him than for me or Madge. He’s your boyfriend.”

“I _know_ that, but I didn’t even think about it that way. How Peeta would look when everybody finds out about Madge didn’t even really cross my mind.” It occurs to me that this is really not a justification. In fact, it is probably the worst part of the whole thing… I just never thought beyond my relief that it worked out for me to be with Peeta.

Gale doesn’t say anything else and just stands up, brushing off the back of his jeans. “Come on,” he says, extending a hand to help me up. “You’re obviously not out here to _actually_ do any hunting, so you can ride with me into town.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because, I have an appointment to look at an apartment in town and I want your help to decide if it’s good or not,” he tells me. “And then I am dropping you off at the bakery so that you can do the right thing and apologize like you know you should, rather than waiting for Peeta to break and come groveling… because you know he will.”

* * *

 

An hour later I am standing in a tiny room in the small apartment above the shoe store in what passes for Meadowglen’s downtown area, debating the merits of the 8’x8’ space.

“This could work right?” Gale says, his voice alight with excitement. “For now anyway… it could work for a nursery.”

I feel a little off balance as I watch him pace the space, pointing out how he could arrange it to fit a crib, changing table, and small dresser. I don’t think it has really hit me until this moment that Gale is going to be a dad. I’ve only considered Madge’s pregnancy as an abstract concept, not really concerning myself with it beyond relief that it doesn’t affect me except in an indirect way. But standing here, imagining Gale putting a tiny little blonde bundle to bed in this room, I am struck by the reality of the situation. Gale’s life is changing forever. For better or worse, whether they are ready or not, Gale and Madge are bringing a life into this world and their own lives will never be the same.

“Gale,” I murmur quietly, trying to draw his attention without attracting that of the leasing agent who stepped into the hallway to take a call a few minutes ago. “I understand why you want to move out of your mom’s, but don’t you think you could find something more affordable in the Seam?”

He pauses to look at me and shakes his head, sobering quickly. “Moving somewhere in the Seam would kind of defeat the purpose.”

“What do you mean?”

“Madge,” he says simply. “I can’t ask Madge to move to the Seam.”

“ _What?!”_ I blurt out, shocked. “You’re going to ask Madge to live with you?”

He looks at me like he thinks I must be incredibly dense. “Of course. Why else would I need an apartment?” My only response is a shrug so he goes on. “Remember how you told me to come up with a plan? Well this is part of it. I love Madge and, even though she is scared out of her mind right now, I know she loves me. She’s having my baby. That’s forever, Katniss,” he says emphatically.

“But she’s-" I start, but Gale cuts me off before I can say anything.

“ _She’s scared,_ ” he says firmly. “I have given her a lot of reasons to doubt me. Now I need to prove to her how serious I am. I have to show her that I am taking this seriously and that I am going to be here for her and our baby. If we are going to be starting a family, we need somewhere to _live_ as a family. I am hoping that she and the baby will come live here with me after she graduates. I don’t care how hard it is, I’m going to make this work. Madge can probably even take evening courses in Asheville part-time if we can get a sitter. I bet Prim would help.”

“I’m sure she would,” I mutter. It’s weird. I am proud of Gale for rising to the occasion like this, but I am also kind of sad for him. While I, and almost everybody else our age, will be going off to college, he and Madge will be settling down, scraping by to try and support a family. This reminds me of one serious downside to Gale getting his own place. “What about your mom and Posy and the boys? You’ve worked so hard to help your mom put aside money for them.”

Gale looks away and shrugs and I immediately regret bringing this up. It is clear that this is a problem he doesn’t have a solution for. “I’ve talked to my mom about it. She understands. She said it shouldn’t have been my job to provide for them in the first place… and this _is_ what it _is_. I have to take care of my responsibilities. I have a family of my own to support now.”

I nod and we are both quiet for a few moments before I finally try to break the tension. “Well, I know Rory will be thrilled. He’ll finally have his own room.” Gale chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Oh Christ… There is now way I am going to let Prim go over there after you move out unless your mom’s home.”

Gale laughs at this and the uncomfortable moment passes. “Yeah, that’s a good plan. Rory is already a horny bastard and he’s only 15… I’m gonna leave a _case_ of condoms behind when I move out. Just to be on the safe side.”

I shove him hard but I’m laughing. “Shut up! There is no way Prim would let that happen.”

Gale snorts. “Yeah, if she is anything like you I’m sure she wouldn’t. Maybe all the Everdeen women are prudes.”

“Just because I wasn’t clamoring all over myself to sleep with you does _not_ mean I’m a prude. In fact…” I trail off, becoming too embarrassed to say more.

Gale raises his eyebrows in surprise and smiles mischievously. “Oh, I see how it is. That bastard Mellark- maybe I should go into the bakery and have a little talk with him after all.”

“Absolutely not!” I say emphatically but I know he’s not serious- we are both laughing.

Gale sobers after a moment. “You’re being smart, though, right? _Safe?_ ”

“Yes, Gale,” I tell him in exasperation.  “You know I’m not going to take chances on that. I’m smarter than you.”

“Good,” he nods and lets it drop as we hear the leasing agent reenter the apartment.

“Well,” the man says, rubbing his hands together as he joins us in the small room. “What do we think?”

“I like it,” Gale declares. “I think I’ll take it.”

* * *

 

I can see Peeta moving around inside the bakery, pulling trays from cases and sliding them into a wheeled rack, from where I sit in Gale’s idling truck. I know that they close at six and it is currently just past 6:30. He’s bound to be finishing up soon, so if I plan to get to him before he goes upstairs for the night, now is my chance.

“What are you waiting for?” Gale asks. “He’s obviously alone. Go on.”

I bite my lip and wring my fingers together nervously. “Maybe I should just text him first.”

“Katniss, what are you so worried about? You guys had a fight. It happens. You’ll make up, have sex… and it’ll be fine.” He sounds as if this is the simplest thing in the world.

I don’t take my eyes off Peeta, following him through the glass of the storefront window as I say, “But what if it’s not fine? What if this is what finally makes him realize I am more trouble than I’m worth?”

Gale snorts and leans across my lap to open the truck’s door. “That’s not going to happen. Get out, Catnip.”

His dismissal annoys me enough that I actually climb out of the truck and start walking toward the bakery’s front door. Gale knows me well, but I’ve never let him see this vulnerable, self-doubting side of myself. In fact, only one person has ever actually really seen it… Peeta, when I had my major freak out back in November and didn’t talk to him for three days. How did this happen so quickly? How has he come to know me better than my best friend in only four months?

I feel the familiar twinge of panic surge through me as it always does when I actually let myself acknowledge the depth of my feelings for him. I push it aside- I am helpless to resist it anyway. I know I will just continue to blindly- and willingly- fall into this thing with Peeta, and face the consequences of it crashing down around me, as it inevitably will, when the time comes.

When I reach the door I tap my knuckles gently on the glass to get Peeta’s attention. He looks up from where he is wiping out one of the cases and seems surprised to see me. He looks utterly exhausted as he walks around the counter and crosses to let me in.

Unbolting the door, he opens it and stands aside for me to enter without really acknowledging me. I step past him and he bolts the door behind me, offering a short wave to Gale who pulls away from the curb seeing that I made it in safely.

I watch Peeta silently as he goes back to the other side of the counter to resume his work. He looks drained and annoyed and… sad.

“Is there something I can do to help,” I finally offer, just to break the tension-filled silence stretching between us.

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. I was just finishing up.” Standing he grabs the rag he was using and a few other items laid out on the counter and walks toward the back. I only hesitate for a second before moving around the counter to follow him.

I watch him pushing wheeled carts full of empty trays around for a minute before I finally blurt, “Peeta, please stop ignoring me.” I’m not used to him being so cold and distant. It doesn’t escape me that this is exactly how I treated him back in November. Except that I have only endured this for a few hours whereas I made him endure it for three days… And, unlike me, he did nothing to deserve the cold shoulder. I feel that panic rising again, realizing just how much I don’t deserve him.

He stops what he is doing, his shoulders slumping, but he doesn’t turn to look at me right away. I am nervously chewing on my lips again, to the point that it actually starts to hurt. “I’m really sorry, Peeta,” I finally work up the nerve to say. My words come out so quiet that I think he might not have heard me so I walk up behind him and lay a tentative hand on his back.

The second I touch him he turns so fast that I am enveloped in an almost painfully tight embrace before I can even comprehend what’s happening. “God, Katniss, I’m so sorry,” he mutters as he presses his face into my hair.

I pull away enough so that I can look up at him. “ _Stop,_ ” I command. “ _I’m_ here to apologize. You can’t take away my chance to be the bigger person for once,” I admonish, only half joking.

“But I was such an asshole this afternoon.” He pulls me back to him, tucking my head against his chest, and I let my body fully relax into his as he traces his hands up and down my back a few times. “I had a really terrible day and I took it out on you. So I _am_ sorry.”

 _“Stop,”_ I tell him again, laughing. I am so relieved that he doesn’t seem to be mad at me anymore, even though he probably should be. I need to give him a proper apology despite the fact that he doesn’t seem to require it. Taking a deep breath I say in a rush, “I should have told you about Madge. I didn’t even think about it beyond being selfishly happy that it worked out for us. I should have thought about how the situation would affect you and I didn’t. _You_ would have thought of _me_ if the situation was reversed and-“

Anything else I might have said is cut off as Peeta pulls his arms out from around me so that he can grab my face and tilt it up to his. He crushes my lips in a hard kiss and I respond immediately, opening for him and bringing my hands up to grasp his where they hold my face.

After a few moments I break the kiss and pull his wrists gently and bring his hands down between us. “Wait,” I pant, unable to stop from smiling, “there is more I need to say.”

He shakes his head, returning my smile and says brusquely, “No there isn’t,” before wrapping his arms around me and catching my lips again. Any thoughts of offering further apology flee my mind completely as I feel his hands slip down to cup my ass and pull me into him even more tightly. I can feel him getting hard against my belly and I’m overcome with frustrated longing.

I want him so badly. I have wanted him every single day since the first time we were together, but this time feels so much more intense. I don’t just want to be with him, I _need_ to be with him. _Right now._

“Is there somewhere we can go?” I ask breathlessly as he dips his head to run his lips along the sensitive skin behind my ear and down the side of my neck. I shiver a little when I feel him nip my shoulder gently.

He pulls back to look at me, his expression deadly serious. “You mean, like, somewhere to _go_?” I smile softly at the way his tone imbues the words with meaning and nod.  “Um, yeah. There is an office in back. With a couch.” He looks so hopeful and excited that I can’t help but find it adorable. I’ve been too reluctant to sleep with him anywhere where our privacy wasn’t assured, and as hard as it has been on me, I think it has been pure torture for him. “There is a lock on the door,” he adds, and I can’t help but laugh at the anticipation emanating from him as I nod again.

I am rewarded with the same brilliant smile that I’ve always been helpless to resist as he grabs my hand and leads me down a small hallway toward the back of the building. The office is small but tidy, virtually all floor space taken up by a desk, one book shelf, and a comfortable looking yellow couch.

Peeta locks the door behind us and wastes no time in using his body to crowd me backward until my butt hits the edge of the desk and knocks over a cup full of pens and paperclips. Neither of us acknowledge it, however, as he is kissing me again in no time.  He pulls my jacket off my shoulders, not breaking our kiss as he lets it drop to the floor and slips his hands under my shirt.

“Are you sure no one will be coming down here,” I pant against his lips.

He shakes his head. “No. My dad is upstairs, probably dozing on the couch right now, and my mom went to bed early with a headache.”

I lean up and start kissing him again, if for no other reason than that I don’t want to hear any more about his parents as he moves his hands upward to cup my breasts over my bra. I arch into his touch and reach around his back to untie the apron that is still fastened around his waist. We part for the briefest second while I yank the apron off and we both rip our shirts over our heads.

Peeta goes directly for the fastening of my jeans and I am not surprised to feel a rush of wet arousal as he slips his hand inside, not even hesitating to bypass my panties. I think Peeta groans louder than I do when his fingers encounter my wet folds for the first time in weeks. “Fuck, Katniss, I’ve missed you so much,” he pants into my ear and I gasp as his fingers circle my clit.

I push my pants down over my hips while he works on me in an attempt to give him room to reach more of me. I feel empty and I want him inside me somehow, even if it’s only his fingers. His hand slips lower as soon as my jeans are out of the way and I moan loudly as I feel his middle finger sink into me. He uses his free hand to pull one of the cups of my bra down to reveal one breast and brings his mouth to it immediately. What he lacks in finesse he makes up for in enthusiasm, and soon my legs are shaking violently and I am grasping at the desk behind me to try and steady myself, knocking things around and onto the floor in the process.

I lurch violently when I feel Peeta insert a second finger into me, causing the desk to slide a bit and the computer monitor to sway dangerously. Peeta raises his head and his look conveys a comical level of concern and amusement. “Maybe we should move to the couch,” he says and I nod eagerly.

He crouches briefly to pull off my boots and pull my jeans down the rest of the way and we both stumble the very short distance to the couch. Peeta sits, pulling me down to him and I climb on so that I am straddling his lap. I immediately bring my hands to his face and kiss him deeply as I roll my hips so that his erection rubs against me through his jeans and my panties.

“Holy shit, you’re going to kill me,” he moans, throwing his head back against the back of the couch.

I take pity on him and begin unfastening his pants. I start to get nervous when he raises his hips to pull his pants and boxers down, as I realize that our position will put me in control. Peeta must notice my trepidation because he brings his hand up to the back of my neck and pulls me down to him for a kiss. “It’s okay,” he says when we part, “we’ll figure it out together.”

I nod and, biting my lip, grab him, rubbing my thumb over the tip in the way I already know he likes. Rather than moving off his lap to take off my panties, Peeta just grabs the crotch and moves them to the side. “I’m sorry, baby, I don’t think I can wait any longer.” He is practically gasping.

I rise up a little and he brings his hand to rest over mine so that it is both of our hands that slide the tip of his cock through my wetness and position him at my entrance. I look up at him, but he is watching the place where are bodies are poised to join with a look of rapt fascination, so I just sink down letting his length slide into me about halfway. I whisper his name and he finally brings his eyes up to meet mine and I hold his lust filled gaze as I rise up and sink down again, taking as much of him as I can this time. I love this feeling, not only of being filled by him, but the sense of power it gives me to see written all over his face that he is held totally in my thrall in this moment.

It takes only a few moments for me to establish a rhythm that has us both gasping in pleasure. As I move, Peeta reaches up and pulls the other cup of my bra down so that both of my breasts are bared and pushed up slightly. At first I am surprised when he doesn’t reach out to touch me, but I realize that he wants to just watch me as I ride him. An intense wave of pleasure surges through me at this, so I lift up onto my knees and lean forward a little to brace my arms on the back of the couch on either side of his head, bringing my breasts nearly level with his face.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he moans, running his hands up my thighs and grabbing my ass. My new position gives me more leverage to move, an effect which is enhanced by the fact that Peeta begins thrusting upward to meet me every time I push down. This hits a spot inside me that has me gasping roughly in a matter of seconds, so that when Peeta brings one hand forward to rub my clit again, I come hard around him almost immediately. The feeling of me contracting wetly around him is more than he can endure at this point and he follows, spilling inside me before my tremors have even begun to subside.

I lift up to move off of Peeta, but he gives an incoherent groan and grabs me around my waist pulling me back to him. “Uh uh,” he moans into my shoulder.

I giggle, very unlike myself, and push away again. “I’m a mess. Let me get cleaned up,” I tell him, blushing deeply. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

He releases me and I move back over by the desk where my clothes lay and attempt to straighten my bra and panties as I go. I am acutely aware of Peeta’s gaze on me as stand almost entirely naked, gathering up my clothes, contemplating what to do about the messy situation seeping between my legs right now.  I look back over my shoulder, dismayed to see Peeta reclining on the couch with his arms behind his head, enjoying my unintentional show totally unashamedly.

I feel a bit vulnerable at first, especially since Peeta has refastened his pants and is, therefore, much more decent than I am. But then I remember the lust in his eyes as I rode him a few moments ago, and let my lips quirk up in a mischievous smile as I grab the sides of my panties to slip them over my hips and down my legs. They are soaking wet anyway, so leaving them on just seems like it will defeat the purpose of putting myself back together anyway. I reach down and grab Peeta’s apron and turn away again- slipping my panties off is one thing, but I can’t bring myself to look at him as I wipe myself off.

After I have redressed in the rest of my clothes I slip my panties into my back pocket and walk over to Peeta, bringing his apron with me. “You should probably put this in the laundry,” I tell him, repressing a laugh and blushing again.

Peeta takes it from me setting it on the couch next to him and sits up. Wrapping his arms around my waist he pulls me toward him so that I am standing between his legs. He smiles up at me as he reaches into my back pocket and pulls out the scrap of very damp blue lace. He fists them in his hand for a second before leaning back so he can slip them into his own pocket.

 _“Peeta!”_ I gasp in indignation.

“What?” he asks innocently, giving me the crooked smile that seems to have the direct effect short circuiting my brain. “I’ll take good care of them. I promise.”

“You are such a perv,” I tell him, but he isn’t too bothered since I am currently climbing into his lap again.

“Hey, I’ve had a bad day. I need this,” he tells me, nuzzling behind my ear.

I lean up so I can look at him. “What happened? Other than finding out about Madge, I mean.”

He sighs loudly. “Nothing. It’s not important.” He is playing with my braid and refusing to meet my gaze, even when I place a gentle hand on his chin to turn him toward me.

“Peeta?” I prompt.

He shakes his head. “My mom and I got in a fight this morning,” he finally admits.

My stomach sinks and I am afraid of his answer but I ask anyway. “What about?” He is still refusing to look at me and when he doesn’t answer I guess, “Was it about me?”

 _“No,”_ he says firmly, but my relief is short-lived as he amends. “Well, not really, anyway.”

“So what was it _really_ about then?”

He sighs again and leans his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes and rubbing them with his left hand. “A letter came from the culinary program at Johnson & Wales… she got it before I did.”

“Oh,” I say, a little stunned. I can imagine how that fight went and it is clear that Peeta really doesn’t want to talk about it, so I don’t press him any further.

We sit quietly for a few minutes and Peeta is the one to break the silence. “My mom told me that the reason Rhys and Rhian didn’t go to college was so that my parents could save to send me.”

I am so shocked by this I’m not even sure how to respond. It can’t possibly be true. What kind of people would make two of their kids sacrifice something like that so that they could send the other to a ridiculously expensive Ivy League school? “That can’t be true, Peeta,” I say at last.

“It is… at least mostly. I asked Rhys.” He finally looks at me and says, “I know my mom was probably making it seem a lot more definite than it actually was, but I know there is some truth to it.”

“Well, I don’t think has to change your plans. I mean, I’m sure your brothers unders-”

“It does. It changes everything,” he states simply, cutting me off.

“Why?” I ask defiantly. His willingness to sacrifice his own wishes to please everybody else has always been a source of annoyance for me. “If you get scholarships, and can pay your own way, all that money that your parents saved can go back to Rhys and Rhian. Right? Then it wouldn’t be on you, whether your mom is telling the truth about that or not.”

“It doesn’t matter, Katniss. I’m not going to be able to pay my own way. I’m not going to be able to get enough scholarships… It just seem like the easiest thing to do is to stick to the original plan.” He chuckles somewhat derisively and says, “And it’s not exactly like I can piss and moan about how unfair it is for me to be getting an Ivy League education.”

“But it’s not what you _want_ ,” I say emphatically.

 _“It doesn’t matter, Katniss,”_ he repeats more forcefully. He looks away again and murmurs, “I didn’t even get into Johnson & Wales. Let’s just drop it okay.”  

I huff out a disbelieving breath. _How is that even possible?_ These programs should be clamoring to accept someone with Peeta’s talent and academic record. “Well, that isn’t the only one you applied to, right? We’ll just wait to hear from the others.”

He shakes his head and gives a non-committal grunt in response. “Let’s not talk about this anymore, okay? This day just got considerably better, and I don’t really want to think about all the bad shit that happened earlier.”

I just nod and lean over to place a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. “Okay,” I tell him, but I can’t help but feel like something isn’t adding up here. There is more to this story than Peeta is telling me- of that I’m sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm on tumbr (plumgal1899). I'd love to hear from you either in a comment here or over on tumblr!! :D


	17. 'Cause I Don't Shine If You Don't Shine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now time for my profuse apologies about taking so long for this update. Sorry! In addition to end of the semester nonsense, I became distracted by a new WIP (which has received a humbling response so far and I would be ecstatic if you all checked it out!!). But I am here with an update now, so I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Also, this story has a Be-U-Tif-Ul new banner made by my lovely and talented friend, Aly. She is nightlockinthecave for those of you who use tumblr. You should follower her. She is awesomeness personified. :)

“Mr. Mellark, can I have a word?”

_Oh shit,_ I think when I hear Portia’s tone as she calls for me across the busy hallway. For a second I consider pretending I didn’t hear her. It would be plausible, considering the utter chaos that characterizes the 10 minutes following the final bell on a Friday afternoon, but I decide it is best just to get this conversation over with.

Sighing, I turn and walk back toward the doorway of the art room where she waits for me. I tap out a quick text to let Katniss know I will be a few minutes late meeting her and follow Portia into her office at the back of the large room. I’ve had extra wrestling practices for the past week because we are gearing up for regionals, so Katniss has gotten into the habit of spending the 30 free minutes I get before practice with me. Sometimes I am still hit with a sense of disbelief that this has actually happened, that the girl that I have been in love with practically my whole life is _actually_ mine.

Closing the office door behind us Portia leans casually on the edge of the desk and just looks at me for a moment before speaking. I fiddle with the straps of my backpack nervously, doing everything I can to avoid meeting her gaze. “So, tell me Peeta. What’s going on with you?”

“Uh, not much,” I mutter. “Just, you know, busy with wrestling and work and stuff. Same old, same old, I guess.”

She quirks a disbelieving eyebrow at me. “I don’t know if I would consider being offered the honor of acting as your class valedictorian the ‘same old, same old,’” she says. “And I certainly don’t think subsequently turning down that offer would qualify either.”

Portia seems just as put out by my decision as Principal Coin did when I told her several days ago. But I know I’ve done the right thing. I have options. Katniss doesn’t. There is no way I could live with myself if I was the thing that stood in the way of everything she has worked so hard for. And as much as I really have no desire to go to school for business, it will be better for everyone this way. My mom will be happy, it will mean that Rhys and Rhian missing out on college won’t have been a waste, Katniss will likely get the scholarship she needs for Chapel Hill… _It works out best for everyone this way._ I have been repeating this in my head like a mantra, ignoring the nagging little voice that wants to point out that it works out best for everyone _except me._

But after my fight with Katniss about her keeping Madge’s pregnancy from me- and the make-up that followed- I am more resolved than ever to make sure she is able to fulfill all of her plans. More resolved than ever to do whatever it takes to make her happy.

I love Katniss. I always thought of it in those terms, even before I had ever spoken to her, but I know now that nothing I felt before I really _knew_ her can compare to what I feel now. Most of my anger about her keeping Madge’s secret was misplaced jealousy- over Gale, over Madge, over anybody that she may have taken into consideration before me. And I was so relieved when she showed up at the bakery that night to apologize and explain her side. Even if she hadn’t, I was planning to go to her house after work anyway- prepared to beg for forgiveness for being such an asshole, if that’s what it took.

I think part of me had always kind of accepted that my efforts to apply to culinary programs and compete for scholarships wouldn’t amount to much. Since the moment I knew that my getting valedictorian would mean hindering Katniss’ plans, I’ve known on some level there was no way for it to work out. My parents’ money and the wrestling scholarship UPENN is offering will pay for me to go to business school. But to pursue any other plan at this point would mean either standing in Katniss’ way, or putting myself into major debt. Not to mention pissing off my family. I have weighed all my options, and while my solution is not an ideal one, I know I have made the best decision for the situation as it stands.

Thinking about it like this actually ignites a spark of annoyance that Portia is putting me on the spot like this. For her, or even Katniss, to continue to push me is really no better than what my mom is doing. Nobody has to agree with my decision, but they do have to accept it. I finally meet Portia’s gaze and say, “I have my reasons for not accepting the appointment.”

“Yes, I’m assuming that it has something to do with knowing your girlfriend was the other candidate,” she says, not even bothering to hide her disappointment.

“That’s part of it,” I respond matter of factly. “But it’s not the only reason. I never planned on having it and I’ve decided to go to UPENN anyway, so I don’t need it. I’ve already been accepted there on a wrestling scholarship.”

“Peeta-” she begins, but I cut off her words in a rare display of temper.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve already given Principal Coin my decision- and it is _my decision.”_ She looks taken aback- I’ve never been anything other than totally polite in front of her. “Look,” I continue in a calmer tone, “I’m sorry. I just have everybody in my life telling me what I should do, and nobody seems willing to accept that I’m capable of making that decision.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you are incapable of making your own decisions,” she says in consolation. “You just have so much natural talent, I would hate to see that squandered.” I look away again, uncomfortable. “And I would hate to see a student I both like and respect heading off to a career path that will not provide them with satisfaction.”

I clear my throat, struggling for a response. Her comments play into my own doubts, but there is more than one way to get satisfaction in life. And as long as I have fulfillment in my personal life, I can deal with lacking in my professional life. But I can’t tell Portia this. She’ll think I’m being naïve for being so certain about Katniss and the potential for our future together. So I avoid her question by looking at my phone and saying, “I have to go. I’ve got wrestling practice.”

She sighs loudly, but doesn’t try to stop me as I turn and head out of her office.

* * *

The second I see Katniss waiting by my locker the tension from my conversation with Portia immediately begins to ebb away. She looks up when she hears me approaching and her body radiates excitement. In an uncharacteristic display of enthusiasm she starts toward me and quickly covers the distance between us, throwing her arms around my neck the second she reaches me. I wrap my arms around her back pulling her to me tightly so that she has to rise up on her tiptoes. She leans back a little and places both of her hands on my cheeks before planting a loud, smacking kiss on my lips.

When our eyes meet a second later her silver gaze is bright with elation. “I got it!” she blurts, fairly bouncing with happiness. “I just met with Principal Coin and she told me that they chose me for valedictorian.”

My face stretches into a broad smile and I bring my hands up to her face, mimicking her grasp on me. “That’s amazing!” I exclaim. “I’m so proud of you!” I kiss her once on the forehead and then wrap my arms around her shoulders, pulling her to me in another tight hug and swaying a little so that we rock back and forth. Seeing how happy she is goes a long way toward erasing the doubts that had cropped up in my meeting with Portia, and I think, not for the first time, that I could gladly devote myself entirely to making this girl happy.

Her arms around my waist are squeezing me so hard that I am astonished by her strength, but at this point she could crack a rib and I wouldn’t utter a protest. She turns her head to nuzzle her nose into my chest for a moment, inhaling deeply to take in my scent, before she looks up at me again. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I was starting to worry. Effie told me that the committee usually made their selection by early January. I was worried they had chosen whoever the other candidate was.”

I look away quickly and bring a hand up to her hair and tuck her head back into my chest, worried that she will see the truth written on my face. “You had nothing to worry about. You earned it. You work harder than anyone in this school and you _deserve_ it.”

She nods in agreement, but her next words cause me to stiffen in discomfort. “I don’t know about that. I get the best grades, but I think you work harder than I do. Between sports and student council and work _and_ earning good grades- you’re pretty damn impressive too, Mr. Goldenboy.” Her tone is light and teasing, but she has hit a little too close to the truth for my comfort. It would be disastrous for her to find out what I have done- she is too proud and independent to accept someone else making a sacrifice on her behalf.

She must notice my sudden rigidity because she looks up again. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I recover quickly. “All this talk about my hard work has just reminded me that I have to get to practice if I don’t want to have my ass handed to me.”

“Oh, right,” she mutters, clearly reluctant to have to let me go. “I’ll call you tonight before bed,” she adds, leaning up for a lingering kiss that leaves _me_ reluctant to let go as well.

* * *

I’m reclining on my bed with my computer propped in my lap, proofreading an essay for English when my phone rings and Katniss’ face flashes on my screen. “Hey, gorgeous,” I answer and I can practically feel her roll her eyes at me through the phone. She says I’m cheesy, but I know she secretly likes it.

“Hey,” she responds, her tone implying the smile that I know she is probably trying to repress. “Did you finish your essay?” The reason we didn’t hang out tonight is because I had to finish this- I work tomorrow and I’ll be away at a regional meet all day Sunday.

“Yup, just proofreading it now.”

“Good,” she responds immediately, “because I need you to do something for me.”

“Okaaay,” I say slowly. “What could you possibly need me to do at eleven o’clock at night?”

“I need you to get over here and sneak into my room so that we can spend the night celebrating my good news.”

I sit up a little straighter and set my laptop on the bed next to me. “What? What about your mom and Prim?” I ask in disbelief. Katniss is so particular about where and when and who’s around when we have sex, that I am dumbfounded that she is actually suggesting I come to her house.

“Prim is spending the night at her friend’s house and my mom is crashed downstairs after working three sixteens in a row. She’s dead to world, trust me.” I must let my stunned silence linger too long for her comfort, because after a moment she adds uncertainly. “Or, I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to. I know you have to be up early.”

“No!” I practically shout. “I want to, _I do._ I was just surprised is all. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

* * *

When I get to Katniss’ house I text her to let her know I’m outside and she comes downstairs to let me in. She has to admonish me for my heavy footfalls as we creep past the kitchen, where her mother’s room lies just on the other side. Katniss moves so silently through the dark house that I swear she has missed her calling as a cat burglar. When we finally reach her room and she has locked the door behind us I breathe a sigh of relief- Katniss’ mom likes me, but I don’t think she would be too thrilled to catch me sneaking through her house in the middle of the night.

I don’t have any further opportunity to worry about it, however, because Katniss is on me the second we are alone. She grabs my head in both of her hands, carding her fingers through my hair aggressively, and wastes no time before capturing my mouth and sweeping her tongue into mine, tasting me deeply. The kiss is hot and wet and kind of messy, but her enthusiasm excites me and I’m hard in no time.

I run my hands down her back, encountering the soft cotton of the old t-shirt she wears to bed, and note that she is not wearing a bra underneath. I let my hands trail south over her perfect ass- I am totally obsessed with her ass, something she has remarked upon more than once. Feeling the perfect combination of firmness and shape, I can’t resist the urge to flex my fingers into her flesh and pull her tight against me so that she can feel my erection against her belly.

She moans into my mouth and then pulls away, breaking our kiss and releasing panting breaths against my lips. I slip my hands into the tiny boyshorts she’s wearing, relishing the feel of her smooth skin against my calloused palms as I push her underwear down, letting them slide along her thighs to pool at her feet.

“You don’t get to keep these ones, okay?” she tells me teasingly, referring to her panties that I still have from the last time we were together. I just smile and capture her mouth again as run my hands up her back underneath the shirt. She’d be shocked if she knew how often I put those panties to use when I jerk-off.

We break away again as I pull her shirt off, leaving her completely nude and me completely clothed, which excites me for some reason. I’ve fantasied more than once about having her on her knees in front of me, sucking me off while she’s completely naked and I am totally covered, my pants open just enough so that she can get to me. I think it is the thought of her being more vulnerable than me for once that excites me. I know that Katniss still harbors reservations, that she hasn’t given herself over to me completely, and my frustration with that manifests itself in these kinds of fantasies, where I get to exercise control. Maybe someday when we’ve been together longer and we have experienced more together, I will broach the topic of acting some of them out. For now I am thrilled just to be here with her at all.

I let the backs of my fingers trace up her abdomen, eliciting a shiver from her, then cup both of her breasts, squeezing them gently. She giggles just a little- a sound I am sure I’m the only person to ever hear from her- and says, “Sometimes I think you like to knead me like a piece of dough.”

I chuckle and quirk an eyebrow at her. “Or maybe I _need_ to knead you like a piece of dough.”

She rolls her eyes at my lame pun, but is laughing when she says, “God, you are just the cheesiest person on the planet. Why do I date you again?”

“I ask myself that all the time,” I respond as I push her gently to topple her onto the bed.

She scampers up so that she is waiting patiently on her knees in the center of the bed and watches me as I undress. Her eyes trace my chest with unconcealed desire as I remove my shirt, and I remember the way she couldn’t seem to help but stare at me the first time she saw me shirtless, after my football practice several months ago. I was too nervous about talking to her to put much thought into back then, but it is clear to me now that she liked what she saw.

I quickly strip off my socks, shoes, and pants so that I stand next to her bed in only my boxer briefs. She walks on her knees the short distance across the bed and doesn’t even hesitate to grab me, as she takes my mouth in another deep kiss, palming my cock in her hand through my boxer briefs and running down to cup me underneath. This is an area she hasn’t really given attention before and I groan in pleasure, pressing my hips forward to encourage her bold touch. She seems unsure what to do, but I don’t have the opportunity to instruct her as she moves on anyway, reaching up to my waistband and pulling the shorts down just enough to free my erection.

Her mouth is on me a moment later, and all coherent thought flees my mind completely, as she pulls the tip of my cock into her mouth, sucking harder than she has before. I fist my hand in her hair, more to brace myself than anything else, as my back arches slightly and my eyes squeeze closed of their own volition. I forget completely that I should be trying to keep quiet and groan loudly as Katniss opens wide to take me as far into her mouth as she is able. She isn’t working on me for long before I urge her to stop- as much as I love how her mouth feels, I want to be insider her… want to feel connected with her on the most intimate level.

I use my left hand in her hair to hold her steady as I give her a deep, penetrating kiss, as though to thank her for the attention she has just shown me. My kiss elicits a soft keening sound from her, which turns into an impassioned moan when I bring my right hand to her center, sifting my fingers through the short curls to find her clit. In a matter of moments her hips are imitating the circling motion of my fingers and she is saturated with arousal. Her formerly soft keening is growing steadily louder and I am grateful that her mom’s room is downstairs and on the other side of the house. The last thing I want is to have to quiet her… I love hearing the sounds she makes.

I pull my fingers away, amidst Katniss’ whining protest, and gently urge her to lie back on the bed. For one mad moment I am struck with the urge to press my wet fingers into her mouth and make her suck them clean, but I dismiss the idea, worried that it might be too much for her. Instead, I give into the almost painful throbbing of my cock and crawl over her. She is waiting for me, her legs already open, but instead of positioning myself between them I lie next to her and encourage her onto her side so that we are spooning.

She looks over her shoulder at me and I run my nose along hers as I ask, “I thought we could try something different. Is this okay?” Her glinting silver gaze meets mine directly as she nods and, realizing the mechanics of how this will work, lifts her hips and spreads her legs a little so that I can position myself partly underneath her. We don’t take our eyes off each other as she brings her hand down to guide me into her.

We are anything but graceful as it takes us a few tries to figure out how the rhythm of this new position will work, but we figure it out together and before long the room is filled with the sounds of our frantically gasping breaths and skin slapping against skin. I feel possibly closer than I have ever felt to her, as Katniss keeps her head turned over her shoulder so that are foreheads are pressed together, her eyes locked to mine, swallowing each other’s moans as we vacillate between kissing and struggling for breath.

When I feel like I won’t be able to hold on much longer I bring my right hand down from where I have been cupping her breast and let my fingers find her clit again. In no time my actions are rewarded with the feel of her walls clenching around me, her wet orgasm flooding over me, pushing me to my own climax as I let go and spill inside her.

Once her shuddering has calmed and the last of my release has subsided we both relax into the bed, panting in exhaustion. I move my hips enough so that I slip free and reposition both of us so that I am fully spooning her from behind. Katniss leans over and grabs a quilt that is folded at the end of her bed so that we don’t have to get up and move under the comforter.

Once we are settled and our heart rates have slowed somewhat, Katniss turns her face to place a kiss on my bicep, which her head is resting on. “Thank you for coming over,” she says, smiling into my skin.

I laugh softly, pulling my face back from where I have been nuzzling her hair to answer. “What did I do to deserve a life where, not only do I get to have sex with the most brilliant and gorgeous girl I know, but that she _actually_ thanks me for it? I have to admit, though, I was pretty surprised you asked me to come over.”

“I just needed to see you,” she murmurs sleepily, sounding like she’ll drift off at any moment. “I’ve been so happy all day, and not just because of the valedictorian thing… Also, because of you. You make me so happy, and I’m so lucky to have you.”

Her words cause a rush of giddy warmth to spread through me. It is not like Katniss to share her feelings so openly. I pull her a little closer to me and lean my head up to place a kiss at her temple. Then, unable to resist the urge and acting on a surging tide of emotion, I let my lips trace along her ear as I whisper, “I love you, Katniss.”

I want to recall the words immediately as I feel her stiffen in my arms. Leaning over to gauge her reaction I see that she has her eyes closed, but I know she is only feigning sleep.

I curse myself as I lay back down behind her. I know how she feels about love, how much the idea scares her. I lie awake for a long time, long after Katniss has actually drifted off to sleep, my thoughts tumbling over one another as I consider the ramifications of my hastily spoken words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So funny story: I got really carried away writing this last scene, and ended up making it way too smutty for my comfort in the context of this story and how this scene works for my plot. Believe it or not, this is not just smut for the sake of it! ;) So I rewrote the scene and what we have here is the revised version. Because I know how much you all love the smuttiness, I am going to post the original version of this scene on tumblr in a couple of days, just for fun so you all can see how my fingers go crazy typing when it comes to the sex, lol. If you want to follow me on tumblr I am plumgal1899 over there as well.
> 
> As always, I thank you so much for reading! Every single kudos and comment brings a smile to my face and your interest in my writing is VERY appreciated!!!


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